


Professor Scamander and the Slytherin Prefect

by AzuraKenway



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 00:35:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13088739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzuraKenway/pseuds/AzuraKenway
Summary: After publishing his book, Newt Scamander is invited to Hogwarts for a year to teach. He was expecting an uneventful year, lecturing about the care of magical creatures, but he soon finds himself obsessed with a young girl. A girl who just so happens to also be a budding prefect, desperate to find a way to become Head Girl. Add in a volatile young man named Credence, and the school year just became a whole lot more interesting.





	1. Library Duties

Green was the colour of the perfectly polished P that hung on the collar of your robe. Green made up the tie that chased silver in a series of lines. And green was the envy the boiled in your blood, another prefect speaking up to claim yet another important role around the castle.

It’s not that you hated your fellow prefects, you had grown quite fond of them over the years. But now was not the time for upholding friendships; you were in a fierce competition. Next year would be your last spent at Hogwarts, the last chance to get your academic record as fully packed with merits as possible. You planned to continue with further studies at the most highly esteemed wizard’s college in the world. But as the Headmaster called out positions needing to be filled, such as warden of the halls, and first year’s aid, nothing jumped out at you.

Before you knew it, every likely position you’d have enjoyed had been unfairly snatched up by others who had shouted for it, their names being written down possibly the most concrete action to follow. Then Headmaster Dippet turned to you, his familiar smile warm, albeit a bit sorry.

“(Y/n), my dear, this means you have library duties.” His wrinkled hands shook as he dipped his quill in the ink pot.

“Library duties?” You bit your tongue, ashamed for being outspoken. But the considerate man flashed you another one of those understanding looks.

“Yes. You are to provide assistance to the librarian, and be a protector of this castle’s library.” He said, not even attempting to make it sound as if it was anything other than the most boring task that could’ve been given. “You are also granted exclusive permission to peruse the restricted section at any time you wish.” He winked so fast that you doubted anyone else had caught it. “Not even all of the professors here are given such a privilege.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of comfort fill your veins. It may not have been the flashiest responsibility that a prefect could have, but you figured that you’d find some way to impress the Headmaster with it. After all, he was the one you needed to appeal to if you ever had a chance at becoming Head Girl next year.

“Alright. If that is all, you’re free to go.” He waved off, the paper and quill floating up and rolling itself to be pushed into a slot in the bookshelf. With that, the rest of the students scurried off, eager to get to their dormitories after such a long train ride.

On your way down to the Slytherin dorms, you found yourself dwindling, drawn to eavesdrop on the snickering girls who made up the other prefects in your year. The three had found it easy to exclude you from their little friendship group, although you saw the Hufflepuff girl often giving you apologetic smiles whenever they passed.

“-and they say he’s the most handsome professor to teach at Hogwarts.” You caught the end of the Ravenclaw girl’s whispered giggling.

“Even if he’s attractive, he’s probably boring as hell. Have you attempted to read that textbook? It’s horrendous.” The Gryffindor girl scoffed.

“That’s what you think about all the textbooks.” The Ravenclaw replied. “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them is marvellous in my opinion. I already ordered the fifth edition.”

“There’s no point in fancying a man you’ve never met.” The Hufflepuff girl finally interceded. “Besides, he’s twice our age. Even if it weren’t totally wrong, he’d never be interested in a young girl.”

“Exactly.” Came the smooth voice of the male Slytherin prefect, your friend Damon. “But he might just fall for a handsome young boy.”

The girls had mixed reactions, the Hufflepuff giggling, the Ravenclaw smiling, and the Gryffindor crossing her arms.

“Alright Damon, we’ll just have to see about that.”

“We will.” He winked, you couldn’t see from around the corner you hid behind, but you could just tell. “Maybe he’ll just end up with a Slytherin.”

“No way.” The Gryffindor laughed. “He’s a Hufflepuff. He’d never want to be with someone so heartless.”

“We’re only so heartless because gits like you have stomped on our hearts so much that they cannot be replaced.” He pouted. You could hear that that was the end of his conversation with the girls when his footsteps echoed towards you. “C’mon, shroud, you’re needed as a shadow elsewhere.” He smirked, walking past you without even so much as looking at you.

Apart from the little annoyance you harboured for being found out by him so easily (you were quite proud of your sneaking abilities), you were more than happy to follow your friend to the common room, where you’d spend the whole night catching up.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The library was one of your favourite places in the entire school. Long, expansive bookshelves with a plethora of information readily at your fingertips. The reading and studying areas were a great spot to hang out, since you enjoyed being alone very often. But soon everything you had come to love about the library had been tainted by your prefect duties. The long bookshelves just made sorting and returning books to their appropriate shelves a near impossible task that took hours to do, even with the assistance of your wand. And the hang out areas were often left with piles of books needing to be placed back, since many students were inconsiderate of this.

Of course there were many elves and ghosts who had been employed to help around the library, but they only started when the library closed at 8pm. This meant that although you weren’t expected to keep the library spotless, and you weren’t at all supposed to be stationed there for more than one hour a day, the afterhours labourers took note of how it looked when they started their shifts, and you assumed that they reported their findings to the Headmaster himself. This meant you were not only slaving over this job a lot more than you had to, but on your own account as well.

Your arms ached from carrying heavy books, your feet hurt from all the walking you’d done to reorganise the shelves. But you were nothing if not determined, and a little too ambitious.

Ten minutes in the restricted section had the hairs on the back of your neck standing, a cold sense of danger lingering along the spines of these books. Many contained information for Dark Magic, others made up of writings created by the evilest of Wizards. Deciding to dust this section to get extra brownie points with the Headmaster had seemed like a good idea at first, but when one of the books growled at you for putting feathers near it’s leather binding you were seriously reconsidering.

A loud clattering and whispered “ouch” had you jumping, your heartrate easily increasing and pounding in your ears. Cautiously, you withdrew your wand from your robes, holding it out in front of you. Bravery wasn’t one of your strongest assets, but if this was an opportunity to catch a student in this section red-handed, you’d certainly be rewarded.

Using stealth tactics you’d always had reason to employ, your feet were silent on the tips of your toes, sticking to the various shadows that now encased the rows of books since it was close to the library’s closing time. Peering your head around the corner, you found the source of the noise, a student hunched over a pile of books and hastily flipping through them.

Clearing your throat, you kept your wand extended, casting a quick “lumos” under your breath. The face that lit up at the other end of your wand was not at all what you’d expected.

There, knelt over a pile of restricted books with his honey hair dishevelled and an exerted fluster on his face was not a student, but a fully-grown man. The revelation brought you no ease, since you’d never seen this person before, and worried that a stranger had been able to surpass the grounds’ security charms and sneak in to steal books.

He brought his hands up cautiously, his freckled face wrought with a confused frown.

“You’re a student.” He breathed, squinting against the light. From his position, he could not see your face through the blinding light at the tip of your wand.

“And you’re a stranger, perusing the restricted section in a castle you have no business being in.” You replied sternly, although with a quiver in your voice.

The man seemed to realize your fear, his expression softening as he stood. He was quite tall.

“Don’t be afraid.” He cooed, his voice gentle and calming. “I’m a new professor here. I was looking for a certain book to help improve my classes.”

“A professor?” You questioned. “I don’t think you’re on the list.”

“List?”

“The list of teachers allowed in the restricted section.” You said, ego seeping into your words as your heartrate returned to normal.

“And you are?”

“I am.” You relayed proudly, lowering your wand to reveal your face. You pointed to the green P badge on your uniform. “I’m a prefect, and in charge of the library.”

“A Slytherin?” He squinted at your badge, then looked back unto your face, curiosity lacing his features before he shook himself out of it. “You’re not going to tell the Headmaster, are you?”

You crossed your arms, eyeing the young man. If this was the new, handsome Professor the girls had been speaking about, he was probably Newt Scamander. He seemed easy enough to manipulate, and you thought he might prove useful to your Head Girl endeavour.

“I won’t,” His face lit up, his green eyes sparkling even in the dark. “on one condition.” You held up a finger, relishing the power you now had over him. This would be fun. “You have to speak highly of me to the Headmaster, and often.”

“Oh…” His brow furrowed. “Are you in my class?”

“Care for Magical Creatures?” You shook your head. “I’ve been placed in more advanced classes, no offence.” You said truthfully. He nodded.

“Then how am I to speak highly of you? And why?”

“Uh… Lie.” You replied a matter-of-factly. “I want to be Head Girl. I could use all the help I can get.”

Newt pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable lying, even if it was for your noble cause.” The hint of a tease lingered on his tongue; you could tell this one enjoyed his banter. He then brought his finger up to his chin in thought; you would’ve laughed at his perfect statue of The Thinker impression if he weren’t intruding on your patience. “How about this. You obviously have access to this area, correct?”

“Mhmm.” You hummed, hopping onto a nearby table, as if to assert how you owned this territory.

“And I need books from here, but I’m not too fond of the idea of getting caught by a ghost or groundskeeper.”

You leant forward, elbows on your knees as your hands held your face. “Go on.”

“I’m proposing… perhaps you could bring me certain books, when I need them? That way I’d feel better about this whole situation. It wouldn’t be lying if you truly helped me.”

You laughed. “You snake!”

Newt frowned.

“You found a way to get something out of this, very clever.” You feigned applause. “Since I’m feeling so generous tonight, I’ll accept these terms. But ultimately, I have a lot more leverage on you, and you should remember that, Mr. Scamander.”

“Professor.” He easily corrected. “And how did you know my name?”

You shrugged, beginning to grow fond of the lost puppy look he gave whenever he was confused. “I’m a shadow. I know and learn everything.”

Newt chuckled. “And you’re a Slytherin, on top of it all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You pressed angrily, your elated mood dissolving.

Newt waltzed past you, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It means I have to keep an eye on you.”

He disappeared around the bookshelf, heading towards the lighted exit of the restricted section. No matter what power game you played, you knew this man would be tricky to find a way around.

There had always been many eyes on you, and yet, none had excited you more than the prospect of Newt Scamander himself.


	2. Borrowing Books and Secret Looks

Newt’s quill just about snapped when he heard a throat being politely cleared, looking up to see two girls fluttering their eyelashes at him. Two bold Gryffindors, who annoyingly (he was too nice to even admit that to himself) always stayed back after class to ask extra questions. He had absolutely no problem with enthusiastic students who wanted to know more, or a confused one who knew it was their responsibility to understand the course material. But these girls, and many others who interrupted his classes, asked questions that he had already answered, or simple things that had already been taught.

“Professor Scamander, what do Bowtruckles eat again?” The taller one asked, bending over his desk with her uniform buttoned precariously low. A Gryffindor prefect badge hung from her tie.

Newt sighed. “They eat woodlice, and smaller species of fairies, when available.” He answered, smiling tiredly.

“And where does the Manticore originate from?” The other asked.

“Greece.” He frowned. “You girls know, all these answers are readily available in your textbooks. I’m here to answer the difficult questions.”

“I’ve got one for you.” A voice garnered his attention from the door. Leaning against the doorframe, a sly smirk and a book in her hand was you. “How long does it take after firing a hair loss jinx for two girls to go bald?”

The two Gryffindors looked at each other with a worried frown, subconsciously touching their longer locks. They pushed past you, exiting as they murmured in annoyance. You prowled in, eyes lingering over the lecture theatre until they finally landed on Newt.

Newt, who’s gaze had so far been fixated on you.

Noticing the slight creasing between your brows beginning to form, he quickly cleared his throat, swiping up his quill to keep his hands busy. You walked over, placing the thick book in front of him.

“One ‘Rare Creatures of Dark Magic’, just as you ordered.” You announced, looking expectant. “What do you plan to say to the Headmaster?”

“I’m not sure yet.” He replied, skimming his finger along the yellowed pages, watching them fall on top of each other. “What would you like for me to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You threw your hands up, through a scheming sparkle twinkled in your eyes. “That I’m the most brilliant student you’ve ever had the pleasure to make contact with?”

“I don’t believe that’s accurate.” His little smile was amused. It grew larger when you tilted your head, irritated.

“And who would you say is? Goldilocks and tits for brains?” You pointed behind you, motioning to the girls who had exited.

Newt struggled not to laugh. “That’s not an appropriate way to speak to a Professor, young lady.”

You huffed a scoff. “Our relationship is far from appropriate.”

“And what exactly would you deem the manner of our relationship?” Newt crossed his hands, laying them on his desk.

“Strictly professional business.” You retorted, leaning your face in and articulating each syllable. “Why? Did you think it was something else?”

“Well, I believed it to be strictly academic.”

“You’re not my teacher. If you were I’d be sucking the grime between your toes like a pathetic-.” You shook your head. “Don’t know why I’m even telling you. Maybe because you know you can’t say anything without risking me telling the Headmaster.”

“So you grovel to get the marks you want. Is that it?” Newt almost felt sorry, though he was perplexed. He’d assumed you were an intelligent girl.

“Please,” you grumbled. “I get all my A’s on my own. It’s the recommendations I need.”

“For what exactly?”

“I’m going to be Head Girl.” You poised.

“Ah, I see.” Newt leant back in his chair, stretching his arms out, his hands behind his head. “So that’s why you want me to give compliments about you to the Headmaster.”

You pointed, pursing your lips. “If I were an evil villain, I’d be upset that I just revealed my grand scheme. But since I’m not, and you’re a mere professor, I’m not entirely opposed.”

Newt chuckled, his smile bright. “I knew you weren’t vacuous.”

“Gee, that’s nice. Is that what you’re going to serve up to the boss man too?”

He shrugged. “It’s all I have at the moment, isn’t it?”

“You also have ‘she brings me restricted books about dark magic’.” You said, sternly staring him down. “Why do you request such items? I’m curious.”

“It’s not at all what you’re assuming.” He answered, opening up the book. “I have a friend who’s plagued by a magical creature. An obscurus. I’m trying to find a way to separate the body from the host.”

You walked around to his side of the table, peering over his shoulder to the page he skimmed his calloused hands over. A threatening drawing of a black orb was depicted, as well as a fear-inducing illustration of a wizard being afflicted by it.

“I’m sorry.” Your words were almost inaudible. “I hope you find what you need.”

Newt looked up, your faces unreasonably close. He could smell the perfume you wore; vanilla, and something else he couldn’t quite place. He noted in a split second the colour of your eyes, and the way your hair fell into your face, only to be pushed back by your smaller fingers behind your ears. Your eyes were much softer up close, less intimidating once he could see his own reflection in them. He cursed himself for judging you so quickly, based on your inherent house traits alone.

“No witty remark?” He asked, breathless.

“No. I’m all out for today.” The smile you gave him for once wasn’t deceiving, but warm. “Should you be in need of any more, wit or books that is, you know where to find me.”

“Yes.” He nodded, pulling himself out of his daze. “In the library.”

You clicked your tongue, remembering that you were due back there for extra cleaning duties. “The library.” You repeated with distaste.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Again, no matter where Newt went, there was always a group of swooning teens in tow. This afternoon he sat against a tree, far from the castle, yet three individuals had found it a great time to intrude on his solidarity. The group, very worryingly, made up of only fourth years who wore deep blushes.

However, before the first could utter a word, a familiar scent caught his senses. Vanilla and something mysterious.

“Scram kiddos, I gotta talk animal droppings with the Professor for my assignment.” You said, shooting a soft smile at the kids who wore green ties.

“Ew.” One stuck her tongue out.

“It’s completely natural Lucy, I’m sure you do it too!” You responded, walking up to the young ginger and ruffling up her hair.

The three ran off, giggling, already concerned with something new. You watched them run off, something very close to maternal pride tugging at your heart. Those kids looked up to you, and it made you damn proud.

“You’re making rescuing me a common occurrence.” Newt regained your attention, his large hands swallowing the small blue book he held in his palms.

“Well, I just can’t help it when I see a damsel in distress.” You chortled. “Anyway, what’re you doing here?”

Newt shuffled over as you sat next to him, his warmth being the first thing you noticed, your shoulders touching.

“I came out here to be alone and read.” He replied, flashing you the cover of his book.

“Oh.” You released. “I’ll just get going then.”

He placed a hand on your knee, stopping you from getting up. “I can be alone when I’m with you.”

You tried not to shiver at the way his fingers grazed your flesh gently as he pulled his hand away, a light dusting of pink on top of his cheeks.

“What, is my presence that unremarkable that you can feel alone while I’m here?” You teased.

“No, not at all.” He smiled. “Your presence is very… present.” You chuckled at his awkward remark. “What I mean to say is, it’s become very comforting, since you have been my constant hero.”

“Stop trying to gussy me up, Professor.” You nudged his shoulder. “Save the kind words for the Headmaster.”

“Actually, now that you mention it, I had a run in with him last night.” He smirked, picking up a fallen leaf and using it as a bookmark, before placing his book down.

“And?” You turned, wide-eyed. “And? Come on the suspense is killing me!”

Newt laughed, his eyes crinkling as he did so. “I told him that you were very helpful when I needed assistance in the library.”

“What did he say?” You pressed, your body now looming dangerously close to his. It made it hard for him to formulate words.

“H-he said that’s great.”

Your chest deflated, your face falling. “That’s it?”

“He was very insistent on talking about a girl in my class, Georgina I think her name was.”

“The Gryffindor prefect.” You mumbled, pushing your knees to your chest and dropping your face into them. “The perfect little prefect.” Your voice was muffled as you wallowed in disappointment.

“Hey, I know how important this is to you.” He cooed, placing a reassuring hand at your back. “I’ll try my hardest to get in more good words for you.”

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze with a pout. “Nothing I do can compare to her.”

“That’s not true.”

“Tell me exactly what she did to impress the Headmaster.”

“…She saved a group of first years from a troll.” Newt admitted.

You let out a deep, long sigh. “Defeater of trolls versus a good book keeper. Who would you prefer to have as your Head Girl?”

Newt choked on a breath, his thoughts unfortunately wondering to another instance where “head” and “girl” intertwined.

You on the other hand, only took more offense. “You’re right! She’s even more appealing than me!”

Newt tried to speak, but found himself at a loss for words. Georgina was an attractive young woman, but nothing compared to you. You with your hair twirling in the wind, skin so perfect and kissable, face so cutely crinkled in anger-

“You’re thinking about how great she is right now, aren’t you?” You frowned, standing up.

“No!” He expelled a bit too loudly. “She’s dumb as a brick and more annoying than an unearthed Mandrake. I could never be fond of someone like that, and quite frankly, I don’t see why the Headmaster is.”

A silence passed along with the calming breeze that swayed the tree’s branches, your breathing erratic as your anger dissipated.

“I’m sorry.” You submitted. “I just get so worked up about it. I couldn’t bear to lose to someone so… so…”

“Insufferable?”

A smile cracked on your lips, through the redness of your face.

“She is, isn’t she?”

“Yes, very much so.” He motioned for you to come sit back down, which you did. “She questions me after class, always hovers at my back like an obsessed Diricawl. You wouldn’t believe how many times she’s interrupted my class just to ask something I had already answered two minutes before.” He took a breath, his hands motioning in passion for his disdain for the girl. “Then she moseys down to my desk, flipping her hair and making very odd pouty lips… I- I’m normally a very calm person, but she infuriates me!”

He turned to you an ironic smile on his face.

“Does that make me a bad teacher?” He asked.

You shook your head. “If I were you, I would’ve already jinxed her ten times over. I admire your patience, it’s nothing I could ever manage.”

“I think you could.” He mused, nodding in the direction where first years were playing. “You seem to know your way around the little ones.”

“Yeah but they’re allowed to be annoying. Everyone’s irritating when they’re younger. Georgina has no excuse, she should take her responsibilities seriously.”

“You don’t think she’s responsible?”

“If she had to save students from a troll, then she wasn’t doing her job properly. Yeah, it’s great to be a hero, but the responsible are those who are able to prevent such instances from occurring. She’s supposed to make sure danger isn’t even a possibility around those kids.”

“You speak as if you know from experience.” He inquired.

You let out a deep breath. “Last year there was an… incident with some mermaids in the lake. I had to do something, something very tolling in order to avoid a danger that threatened those under my care. All that stuff – it’s off the books. I got no praise for it, didn’t even get a thank you. For someone so boastful that was the hardest part; being the only one to know of the good I’d done. But that’s part of the job I signed up for.”

“So, you were a hero even before helpless Professors needed saving from teenage girls.” He poked.

“I was just doing my job.” You shrugged. “…Professor Scamander, you’re making it really hard for me to dislike you right now.”

“Please, I’m not your teacher. You can call me Newt, if you’d like.” He said, hands fussing over a tuft of grass to steady his shaking hands.

You nodded, fingering the sleeve of your jumper.

“I’d like that. Newt.”


	3. Dragon Tongue

Climbing aboard the bus, you dodged floating paper airplanes charmed to aim themselves at other students, moving towards the back of the vehicle. You took a seat on the plush chair right at the back of the bus, getting comfy for the field trip by pressing your forehead to the cool glass. As the engine started, roaring to life as the bus jostled, you felt the seat sink beside you.

Turning, with the full intent to tell whoever it was to find another seat, you were met with green eyes, swirling with laughter and kindness.

“Why aren’t you sitting with your friends?” Newt asked. Today he was wearing a cobalt blue coat, since the excursion involved going out in the chilly autumn air.

“I don’t have any friends in Runes class.” You replied nonchalantly. “Why are you here? Finally decided to pursue a higher paying career?”

Newt chuckled, knowing now not to take any offence from your playful jabs. “They needed another teacher to supervise. I had an afternoon off, so I thought I’d volunteer.”

“You’re too nice for your own good. But luckily, you’re in for a fun trip. Do you even know where we’re heading?”

“Uh… I was told the trip is to an ancient ruin?”

“An ancient Dragon’s tomb, since this semester we’re learning the Dragon language; Dovahzul. Apparently, we might get to see the ghost of Alduin - the biggest, baddest dragon who ever lived.” You emphasised the spookiness of the fact by wiggling your fingers and putting on a mock haunting voice.

“Most dragons don’t comprehend language. Those who did are long passed.” Newt lectured. “I would’ve liked to have a conversation with them. However, there’s no use in learning the dead language now.”

“No use?” The corner of your mouth twitched upwards. “Newt, why do you think people learn Latin? Or Ancient Elvish? It’s so that we can learn about their history.”

“I didn’t know you were so passionate about this.” He felt a little ashamed to have shot the notion down now. “Have you always been interested in ancient languages?”

“I’ve always been interested in everything.” You felt your pace of speech speeding up as you became enthralled with the topic. “The sorting hat had trouble placing me because I could have fit into Ravenclaw perfectly.”

“So why’d it choose Slytherin?”

“Never told me why.” You shrugged. “I’m a little bit manipulative, I guess.”

“A little?”

“Okay, okay. I suggest you shut your mouth before I start shouting ancient Dragon curses at you.”

You both giggled, drawing the attention of some very envious students.

After a couple hours, the bus finally stopped in front of an abandoned excavation sight. The sheer mass of the area warranted the condition that students had to be no more than a couple meters from a teacher at a time. They said it was to avoid getting lost, but you knew there was something more dangerous lurking underneath the runes engraved into the obsidian stone.

But, being yourself, curious and searching for more knowledge, you delved deeper than any other student dared. Finding yourself in a cave, the air became thick with the sense that this area had been left untouched for dozens of years. The feeling was utterly soul eating; so unbearably alone. That’s when you noticed you had been cut off from the group, the winding pathway you had chosen to follow now too confusing to manoeuvre.

Trying to calm your panicking mind into a more rational standpoint, you followed the way the wind blew, obviously needing to come from some outside source.

“(Y/n)?” Newt’s voice rung out, worried and frantic.

“Newt!” You yelled back, your voice reverberating off the black rocky walls. “Newt I’m here!”

“I can’t tell where your voice is coming from!”

You walked on. “I think I’m lost.” You admitted.

“Really? I never would have guessed.” He teased. “Let’s make a plan-“

Suddenly his voice stopped echoing, his body slamming into yours as you turned a sharp corner. With a thud, you had fallen on top of the frightened man, his arms protectively wrapping around you and pulling your body to his chest.

“You alright?” He asked through a stifled breath.

“Yeah.” You nodded, pushing up onto your hands. Your hands resting on his chest, fingers just tickling the little portion of flesh that peeked out from under his white button-up. Feather-light touches that left fire in their wake, a flurry of thoughts that were so utterly distasteful for a man of his age and esteem, but just oh so right that maybe a kiss in a hidden cave wouldn’t matter to the outside world.

You broke him out of his dreaming with a pat to his chest, hoisting yourself up. “Let’s hope you don’t get a concussion. I’d hate to have to drag your heavy body out of this place.”

He smiled, taking the hand you offered him, then unhelpfully you let go just as he leant his weight into it. He fell back, letting out a soft curse. Your eyes were trained on something behind him, large and captivated. He turned to see the mural that had caught your attention; inscriptions running above a doorway with dragon heads engraved at the top. The doorway was blocked by a large obsidian door, but there was obviously something behind it, evidenced by the door shaped grooves in the rock.

“This is it.” You murmured, walking towards it. You ran your fingers over the engravings, muttering the words out, testing them in your mouth until you pronounced them correctly. From your lips finally came “Bex Dovah Quoth”, and the black door shifted, dust being flung into the air as it slowly descended into the ground, leaving a massive doorway to walk through.

You looked back to Newt, who wore a similar mystified expression.

“Isn’t this the part where you tell me not to go into the clearly perilous area?” You questioned through a whisper.

Newt walked in front of you, half-heartedly holding his arm up between you and the doorway. “I’m going to go in. You stay here.”

“Hey, I opened the door, I deserve to go in.” You argued, your tone being raised to a hushed shout.

“Okay, but stay behind me.”

You held up your hands. “No complaints here. If you get killed it’ll give me a chance to run away.”

You followed Newt closely as he entered, coming to walk alongside him as he cast a Lumos spell, holding his wand against the heavily inscribed walls.

“This is amazing!” You squeaked excitedly. Newt had never seen you so happy, and although a warning tugged in his gut, he couldn’t help but adore the way you jumped over the ancient inscriptions. “This was the tomb of the last dragons.” You pointed towards the large black tombstones arranged in a circle. “Their bones rest here for eternity…” You squinted at the next part of the sentence. “Until… something.”

“Until what?”

“I don’t know. I’m not exactly fluent yet, Newt.” You retorted, getting defensive over your abilities. You then became absolved in the largest mural, engraved in the centre of the room. “This was Alduin.”

“Really?” Newt came up to you, looking over your shoulder at the illustration and writings. “Can you tell me what it says?”

“I’ll try.” You promised, running your now dirtied fingers along the indentations in the stone. “Alduin rests here. Flesh… hmm… Tiid Vo.” You pondered for a second. “Vo is undo. I don’t understand.” Your eyes darted around the expansive wall. “What could it mean?” Then for the second time, your incantation spurred something to happen. “Slen Tiid Vo.”

The ground shuddered, Newt’s hand flying to capture yours as an immediate response. You both watched on in horror as the tomb in front of you crumbled, grey dust, or perhaps ashes, obstructing your view. Then, a horrible roar came, alike a normal Dragon’s, but distorted. The sound pierced your ears, a trickle of blood exiting the canal as a result. Newt tugged on your arm, but you were so invested in the scene.

A skeleton of a Dragon emerged, a wraith-like appearance of flesh slowly returning to the undead beast. Newt did the only thing he could. He scooped you up, and ran straight for the exit. Once out, the Dragon roared after you, Newt not bothering to look back as he panted.

“Wait!” You screamed as your bodies passed through the exit.

“That’s a highly illogical request!” He complained, but put you down after you relentlessly squirmed in his grip.

You ran towards the door, franticly searching for the phrase you had remembered seeing. Newt watched on anxiously as the Dragon began to make for the exit, it’s teeth becoming tangible with every passing second. The claws attached to its wings scratched at the ground as it ran, fire accumulating in the back of its throat.

“Miiraad Daal!” You enunciated loudly, causing the door to shut instantaneously. A large thud sounded against the door, followed by a pained whine.

Your chest heaved, your hands shaking. Standing there for a second, you would have stayed frozen if Newt hadn’t taken your hands in his, his expression so much more relaxed than you would have expected.

“I almost released a zombie dragon onto the world.” Your voice trembled.

Newt huffed a laugh, his head shaking. “You almost did.”

“H-how are you so okay with this?”

Newt looped an arm around you, gently getting you to begin walking. “I’ve grown accustomed to beasts wanting to kill me.”

You let out a loud laugh, some of the tension fleeing your tight knit muscles. Then you passed out.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stirred by the bus running over a pothole, you awoke to an empty carriage. Empty, apart from Newt, who’s arm you had nestled into during your deep sleep. He was snoozing himself, his mouth slightly parted as his breathing came slowly. His fingers twitched against yours, resting so close that it looked as if he had been holding your hand, his grasp loosening in his slumber.

You looked out the window, admiring the mountain range as you drove past. It felt nice, even considering the scary events you’d just undergone. Just you and Newt, leant against each other in a blissful tenderness that couldn’t be interrupted by anything. The transport didn’t even yield a driver, since it ran on magic alone, leaving you only to the peaceful hums of your sleeping friend.

Was he your friend? Or had you just assumed since you’d been through a lot in a short time frame, that you’d grown closer than you actually had? Because the feeling dwelling inside was not one that arose when you spent time with a friend. Your skin shouldn’t burn so wildly when touching the skin of an acquaintance. Neither should your heart beat so fast that you seriously thought you might go into cardiac arrest.

Another bump in the road caused Newt to wake up, his eyes fluttering open to the image of you, curled up beside him and watching out the window. He cleared his throat, garnering your attention. His face was soft. The type of soft that only occurred under the purity of sleep, the innocence still adorning his relaxed features until he full came to his senses, a frown forming in his brow.

“How are you feeling?”

You sighed. “Good. We found something really important today.”

“Yes. I’ve already alerted the Ministry to the site.” He relayed, rubbing his eyes.

“What of the Headmaster?”

Newt gave you a sorry smile. “The Ministry told me that I should spare him the details.”

“Obviously.” You turned back to the scenery passing. “The one time I do something notable, with a witness, and it ends up being swept under the rug.”

Newt turned your face with his finger, indulging in the serious pout you gave him. “I’m still going to tell the Headmaster that you saved the world from a horrible evil.”

“I doubt he’ll believe it.”

“(Y/n), he will. He will have to after the Ministry comes out with an official statement.”

A spark of hope ignited in your heart. You knew not to let it burn too bright just yet.

“You know, your dragon vocabulary was very… impressive.” Newt settled on the word with an awkward crooked smile.

“Thank you.” You replied earnestly. “Newt… I-“ You bit your lip. “Thank you. For finding me. For being my rescuer for once.”

He shrugged, though a blush filled his face. “Thought I owed you at least one act of heroism.”

You shuffled then, turning to him.

“Do you want to know what my favourite phrase is in Dovahzul?”

“Yes. Very much so.” He smiled down at you, resting one hand on the seat in front of him, the other on top of yours. Your fingers intertwined, like it was the most natural act in the world.

“I found it once when I was reading a book about ancient Dragon relations. When two Dragons made a pact of friendship, they swore to always protect each other. I’ll skip over the details, since the book I read was over 2,000 pages long, but the term I grew fond of was the one that they spoke to sanction the pact.” Your heart fluttered at the way Newt intently listened, nodding along. “They used to say: Zu'u Mindok Hi.”

“And what does that translate to?” Newt asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his face drifting ever so slowly towards yours.

You smelt the peppermint on his breath. “Roughly, it means: I know you.”

“I know you.” Newt repeated, readily. “Zu- what was it again?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “The pronunciation is very difficult. But I’m sure you’ll get it with a bit of practice.”

He nodded, seeming pleased with your disclosure. “I want to say it. I want to be able to sign our little friendship pact.”

You smirked at that, flicking his nose with your finger.

Newt wished there was a word for “cute” in Dovahzul, yet he highly doubted ancient Dragons would have used such a phrase. But it was the only word he could think of during the whole ride back to the castle. The one, along with many others, that perfectly encapsulated how you looked as you once again dozed off on the sleeve of his cobalt coat. Cute, even with Dragon ashes greying your fingers, hair so knotted it looked like a bird’s nest, and a dried blood trail coming from your ear. Your soft snores accompanying the humming engine of the bus, and the unsteady beating of Newt’s heart.


	4. Black Tendrils

Newt awoke to an owl tapping at his window, in its beak a letter stamped by the Ministry of Magic. Allowing the bird in, along with the chilly morning breeze, it dropped the letter in his lap. He was distracted for a second by the blood under his nails – your blood – and couldn’t help but smile. You’d made it safely to your dorm when you both arrived at the castle, waving him goodbye with a lazy, tired smile. You had dragged your feet, turning at the end of the hallway to shoot him another smirk, one that had been a sharp arrow landing its mark square in his chest.

But Newt’s gentle happiness faded as his eyes skimmed the words of the letter, shaking his head and releasing a string of frustrated curses under his breath. The letter read:

Dear Prof. Newton Scamander,

The Ministry regrets to inform you that once happening upon the sight of your encounter, there seemed to be no evidence of a dragon. However, many ancient dragon linguists were thrilled at the discovery, as well as many Ministry archaeologists. The discovery will service our historiography department well, and we thank you for the find.

Until next time, our warmest regards,

M.O.M.

Newt crumpled the letter in his hand, his heart falling. Of course, there was no mention of you, meaning you’d probably been robbed of the credit and it was all his fault. He imagined your soft face, that smile that would disappear when he told you the truth about the implications of your unearthing. He wished he could find a way to keep you from becoming disenchanted.

And that opportunity showed up at his doorstep just a couple hours later with a few timid raps on the hardwood door.

“You don’t know how glad I am to see you.” He smiled, engulfing his friend in a big hug. Credence patted his back awkwardly, as always not very familiar to positive touch. “No time to settle in just yet. I need to introduce you to someone.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Newt asked Credence to wait while he slipped into the restricted section, where he found you stacking books with an aggressive thud. The anxious Magizoologist cleared his throat, your movements pausing with a drawn-out sigh. Your shoulders slumped.

“I know.” You uttered, the disappointment dripping from your tone. “If you came here to apologize, don’t. It’s not your fault.”

Newt took a step forward, his hand reaching out cautiously to wrap around your upper arm, twirling you around to face him. Your eyes were red around the edges, and you avoided his gaze when he furrowed his brow.

“I’m going to say it anyway.” He breathed. “I’m sorry.”

Because he couldn’t help but feel responsible for constantly letting you down. Your moment of blossoming friendship had been ruined by the revelation that nothing had really changed. He hoped that it wouldn’t affect the pact you’d made to each other, but a heaviness weighed on the subject due to the underwhelming outcome.

Newt wanted to test the boundaries, he wanted for things to stay the same, for things to keep progressing as they had been. So he pressed a squeeze to your arm, and bent his head down a little to reach your height. His neck curved as he placed a light kiss on your cheek, a strangled breath fanning your face as he hovered for a second, trying to garner your reaction. The blush reached your cheeks before your breathing did, and for a second he was afraid that you’d forgotten how to do so. But then you released a long sigh, the sound so adorable as a faint smile touched your lips. You looked up, your mouth still slightly agape until your remembered to close it.

Then you turned around, fighting the urge to jump into his arms and beg for more. “If you want to make it up to me you can help me with these books.” You cleared your throat, hiding your face.

“I’ll be glad to.” He chuckled. “But first I want you to meet someone.”

As if on cue, Credence’s presence appeared at the end of the shelving, his fingers skimming over the spines of the books until one tried to nip at his fingertips, urging him to recoil. He looked up, acknowledging with a flustered bumbling that the both of you were looking at him.

“H-hi.” He gave a fleeting wave, eyes flittering about your being as he assessed whether you were a threat or not.

“You always this jumpy?” You noted, sticking your hand out to shake. You tried to compress your subsequent laughter when he got a little scare from the action. He then took your smaller hand, wrapping his hand around yours quite curiously. He flipped your hand while shaking it, narrowing his eyes as he stroked a testing thumb against the soft skin of the back of your hand, then releasing it only to run a finger along your palm.

“You have very nice hands.” He spoke gently, and although he seemed a little weird you took it as extreme politeness.

“Thank you.” You grinned. “You do too.” You said, pointing to the scar on his palm.

Newt interjected before Credence could retort, a sadness taking his eyes that made you regret saying anything.

“This is Credence. Credence this is (Y/n).” Newt turned to you then. “He’s my friend who needs help with the obscurus situation.”

“Oh.” You perked up. As Newt had hoped, Credence provided a welcomed distraction from the whole dragon incident. “Well I’m glad to meet you, Creed.”

“Creed?” He questioned, though a light smile tugged at his full lips. You thought you’d like to see what the full thing looked like.

“Yes. I am just so disgustingly lazy, and well, Newt’s already shortened his own name. I hope you don’t mind.”

Credence liked the way you spoke; it was unlike anything he’d ever heard before. Kindness laced with a constant joking manner, he could see why Newt looked at you like you were the most amazing person in the room. It only just dawned on himself that you were very pretty.

“I-I don’t mind.” He replied. The smile you gave in response made him feel weird; safe.

“So, you guys need help with your borderline Frankenstein experiment?” You asked, poking Newt.

“That’s not very nice. I don’t enjoy being told that I’m basically a mad scientist.” He retorted, enjoying the usual banter you now shared.

“Anyone who enjoys watching Erumpents have sex has to be at least a little insane.”

“It’s necessary for my research!” He countered, brushing the dust off a nearby book.

Credence watched on, enjoying the playful interaction between you two. He copied Newt, picking up random books and placing them in piles. He thought he was helping.

“I think you just like watching mating sessions in general, you sick man.” You laughed.

“Now you’re just making me sound like a fool. There’s much to learn from various forms of mating in the magical animal kingdom.”

You huffed, biting your lip. “Now I know where you get your horrible flirting skills from.”

“And how would you know what my flirting is like?” He dared, raising his brow.

“…Well I know what your technique of rejection is.” You smoothly changed the subject. “Being so polite that the romantic contender can’t tell that you’re not interested. Poor Georgina still thinks she has a chance with you.”

“Who says she doesn’t?” Newt suggested, a sly grin on his face.

You pushed his shoulder. “Shut up. No one in this castle has a chance with you.” You reached up to a book that was just an inch away from your outstretched fingertips.

Newt wrapped his large hands around your waist, giving you a slight boost. “No one?”

“Well, unless you fall for one of the teachers, but I don’t think there are many appealing options.”

“Who says I won’t fall for a student?” His voice was softer now, like a lion in the tallgrass stalking its prey. He propped you up on the desk, where you continued to sort books.

“Just about every law in muggle and magic history.”

Newt chuckled, his hand resting on your knee. “So policies about theft relate to teacher-student relations?”

You gave him the side eye with a growing smirk. “I’d say my sense of humour is rubbing off on you.”

“A lot of you is rubbing off on me.” He said, taking a seat right in front of you. “I’ve found, disturbingly, that the more time I spend with you, the less patient I become.”

Scoffing, you leant your face forward, matching his playful glower. “I for one think impatience it the key to getting things done.”

“Is that so?” He pondered, leaning up closer to you, his hands sliding up your thigh. “And what things shall we get done?”

You immediately leant back, a cocky expression escaping your features as your fingers absentmindedly flicked through the pages of the book you held. “That’s up to you, I suppose.”

“So you’ll wait for me to do all the work.” He liked where this conversation was going.

But you however, had grown a little stiff at those last words, a flicker of anger in those eyes. “You already take all the credit.” You retorted sternly, pushing past him to hop off the desk, wandering over to place your pile of books in their designated slots.

Newt slumped in his seat, his head falling back against the wooden backrest. He knew it would take a while to heal that fresh wound, but he didn’t expect you to get to riled up about it. But after all, he realized it was a big deal for you, and it seemed everything was going wrong in your endeavour for the position of Head Girl.

Everything was wrong, apart from the sweet boy who poked his head around the corner, his black hair grown out longer now since he was living with the Goldsteins. Credence asked if you needed any help placing the books back, and that’s when you saw the mess he had made of the potions section of the aisle.

With an amused huff, you pulled the boy over to the spot, showing him the correct way to organise the books.

“Sorry.” He muttered, looking unbelievably sad.

“Hey,” You cooed, placing an earnest hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re learning.”

Then something strange happened. Credence’s arms flickered with black tendrils, crawling in wisps, stark against his pale flesh. Instead of jumping back, you apprehensively took his hand in yours. The smoky shadows danced over your skin a little, licking the flesh in stinging intervals.

“Is this your affliction?” You asked gently. Credence nodded, his face fallen in something that resembled utter bliss.

“Feels r-really good.” He whimpered. “Normally it feels… bad.”

“Interesting.” You hummed, dragging your fingers up his arm. Along with goose bumps, the black tendrils followed your touch, as if seeking that affection hungrily. To Credence’s dismay, you eventually let go. “We’ll have to further investigate that when we have time to address your problem.”

“Investigate…” Credence echoed, as if in a daze. He enjoyed the idea of you investigating him.

You gathered the rest of the books that Credence had muddled, and left him to go put them back. You ran into a worried looking Newt on your way to the DADA aisle of the restricted section. He steadied you by grabbing you by the shoulders.

His silence seemed to say it all, as he took half of your load and stood shoulder to shoulder with you, skimming the shelves for the place the books belonged.

“You’re still upset with me.” He uttered almost inaudibly, tilting his head to give you a sorry look.

You shook your head. “I’m not.”

“(Y/n), I know you.” He turned, his height urging him to hang his neck a little as the close distance left you looking up at him. “I know the angry fire you get in your eyes. And the way your posture straightens when you’re trying to contain your emotions. This meant a lot to you, and I stuffed it up.”

“Newt… I really don’t blame you. I just direct my anger everywhere when I’m mad.” You shrugged. “I’m upset with you but indirectly.”

“So you’re… happy with me directly?” He proposed cheekily.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes. There’s not much to be unhappy with.” You made no effort to hide the way your eyes scoured his body from head to toe. It sent a shiver down his spine.

“Uh, (Y/n)?” Credence’s voice caught your attention.

“Yes handsome?” You answered, poking your head down a corridor. The sight you were greeted with was the poor boy being weighed down by a book on his chest. You remembered that one specifically, titled Heaviest Potion Elements and Their Properties. It was solid metal and took two people to move. “Oh you poor thing.” You giggled, walking over to help him get it off.

Newt watched on in adoration as you helped Credence up, but soon something darker filled his heart. He wasn’t often a jealous person, but watching the way your hands gently touched his arms, brushing over his face to check if he was okay; it was how he wished you’d touch him. He shook his head, trying to dispel those thoughts. You were a student and he was a teacher. It would make more sense for you to be drawn to someone your age, someone as endearing as Credence. And he could also see the way it was affecting the young man already, his pale cheeks lighting up in hues of pink, his smile growing much broader than he’d ever seen it. You had that effect on everyone, it was just a part of your lovable charm.

But Newt found that he was selfish when it came to you. All his thoughts had become consumed with scenarios of having you, sometimes in not-so-appropriate ways. Ways that made his breath hitch and his pants tighten. And he found himself, now, fighting this confusing whirlwind of affection, jealously, and arousal all in the tiny timespan it took for you to help Credence up, twirling your hair around your finger and looking back to Newt with that suggestive look of ignorance, your open-mouthed expression twisting into an almost slow-motion smirk.

“I know you’re used to sitting around and being pretty while I do all the work, but would you mind helping us put this one back on the shelf?” You pointed to the metal book that still lay on the ground. Newt nodded, murmuring an “of course” before hurrying over to pick up the troublesome volume.

You were quite impressed when Newt managed to pick the thing up all on his lonesome, slotting it into its spot with a grunt. The thoughts that filled your head following the heavenly sound made you suck in a breath, taking a step more behind Credence as if it would hide the way you felt.

Credence turned his head. “You okay?” He asked.

You smiled, resting a hand at his lower back. “I’m absolutely perfect Creed, thanks for asking.”

“You are.” Credence spoke softly, but you shot him a pleased look when you overheard.

There was no way in hell you’d survive with these two attractive men bunched in so close to you in this little area of the restricted section.

“Okay, I think you guys have done enough damage.” You said, shooing them out. “Better escape before the groundskeeper checks up on the place. I’ll come meet you after your class and help with the whole Frankenstein extraction business.”

“You really think I’m a Frankenstein?” Credence asked, although his small smile indicated that he knew you were joking.

You patted him on the chest. “Only the cutest Frankenstein I’ve ever seen.”

Newt shot you a warning look; one that made you feel like you were in trouble. You wanted to say: What, are you going to give me detention for flirting with your friend?

But instead Newt got a much better response. You tugged on his arm on his way out, Credence not noticing you’d pulled his friend behind a bookshelf. Newt’s hands fell to your hips as you stood on your tiptoes, your lips lingering above his for an agonizingly long while. Then you kissed his nose, attempting to leave him with a casual “see you later, Professor.”

The problem was that you hadn’t expected Newt to keep a firm grip on you, turning to push you against the bookshelf. He gripped your face, and without giving you even a second to breathe he captured your lips. The kiss was needy, soaked in passion and impatience.

It was the type of kiss that lasted a minute, a second, and a lifetime. As if everything faded to black and you were in your own animated cutscene, everything focused solely on the way you were expressing your truest feelings in a physical manifestation. Newt hummed into the kiss, deepening it while pushing away all rational thought. I’m kissing a student, his mind would shout. No, I’m kissing the most beautiful young woman I’ve ever met. He felt your arms wrap around his neck, your body pressed to his firmly. He had to pull away after that, afraid that if he continued he’d have a dilemma in his pants to accompany the one starting up in his head.

“See you later, darling.”

Then he strolled away, readjusting his bowtie. As he left the library with bruised lips, he was sure you now knew that he wouldn’t tolerate you flirting with anyone else.


	5. A Rare Creature, An Indecisive Heart

Sleep didn’t come easy that night, to either of you. While you lay quiet, peering through the murky dark waters through your dorm window, Newt tossed and turned. There was so much at stake, so much resting on his shoulders now. Credence was antsy for a cure to his Obscurus, and you, well you’d just gone and made his life more chaotic in 2 seconds than the entirety of his trip to New York had. His mind raced with lovely images of you, mirages of scenes he wished to carry out.

A first date, which would be a picnic by the lake. You’d once mentioned how much you loved to swim, even just to relax at the edge of the water. Sometimes the giant squid that dwelled in the lake would surface, swimming to the shallows. You’d spoken so highly of the creature, a familiar glint in your eye as you expressed your fondness for the thing.

“I call him Seafood.” You had told him, “He doesn’t like it. The last time I called him that, I was washing ink out of my uniform for hours.”

“It’s too bad Cephalopods don’t share your humour.” Newt had laughed.

You’d simply flicked his nose, moseying away coolly, like you always did. “Perhaps they share yours, Salamander.”

But the more he imagined lovely scenarios to be played out with you, the more his mind wandered to what else could be in store. Not a day went by without you inquiring about the Headmaster, always expectant and readily disappointed. Newt couldn’t tell if you were constantly flirting with him because you genuinely liked him, or if you were just trying to make him like you more in order to get what you wanted. He hated thinking like that, but he couldn’t help but remember that all the times you’d done something for him, you’d expected something in return.

“What’s the use of doing a favour if that person won’t be in your debt?” He’d heard you say once. It was a strange, sort of backwards way of thinking. Sometimes you didn’t even stick to it: the example of you always aiding the kids around the castle being just one.

Here he was, lying in bed thinking about how you could betray him, while you fell into comfortable sleep thinking about how you’d finally met someone who understood you. He couldn’t have understood you less. He was beginning to think he’d never speak those words and mean it.

“I know you.” He had said, like a promise. But he didn’t know you. Not as much as he wished he did, anyway.

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“Stand back, (Y/n). I’m not sure what might happen.” Newt said, pushing you to the side. Credence sat in the middle of the room with a funny helmet placed on his head, receptors poking out like sharp quills.

“I survived an undead Dragon. I think I can handle a boy.” You replied stubbornly after hearing how monotone Newt had become.

The man half-heartedly shrugged. “If you get hurt, it’s not my problem.”

The words caused a sudden crack in your heart, one that might have been loud enough to hear, had Newt not pulled down the lever and started the experiment. The machine he’d created was charmed with a magical barrier to contain the Obscurus once it left the host, and Merlin was it loud. It was a good thing you were doing this in the Room of Requirement, from which no one could hear what you were doing.

The black smoky wisps started to leave Credence’s fingertips, curling up his arms and going directly to his head. They seemed to be drawn by the receptors on the helmet, and the session indeed looked to be working. But then Credence started convulsing, his eyes turning white.

“Newt, turn it off.” You yelled over the noise.

The Magizoologist looked back and forth between Credence and the machine, which was now half filled with aggressively dancing smoke. “Just ten more seconds.”

“Ten more seconds my ass!” You shouted, shaking your head. You pulled down the lever, to Newt’s strong objections.

The room suddenly went silent, leaving a dull ringing in your ears. Credence was spasming, his fists clenched tightly around the chair he was seated in. Rushing over, you took off his restraints, coaxing him out of the fit with gentle words and soft coos. His skin was electric to the touch, stinging with pinpricks wherever your fingers grazed. But you didn’t pull away, sitting on the back of your legs as you knelt before the tortured boy.

Credence stirred, his familiar brown irises returning through the cloudy white. “W-what happened?”

“You were almost free of the Obscurus.” Newt murmured, as if in a daze. “Almost.”

You ignored the harsh look he gave you, taking Credence’s hand. “How do you feel? Are you okay?”

The tendons in his arm pulsed as you squeezed his hand, pulling him out of a brief stupor.

“I feel okay. A little tired.” He emitted with a soft-spoken voice. “I’m glad you guys are helping me.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. Newt cleared his throat.

“Shall we go again?”

Rolling your eyes, you took a stand.

“Listen, Newt. I don’t know if you left your wand up your ass while you were marvelling over your great creation, but have a little goddamn compassion. What is wrong with you? You’re normally so much more understanding than this.”

“I’m sorry Credence.” He apologised, looking straight past you. “I’ve just been somewhat concerned that our confidential affairs may be used as a trophy that’ll earn (Y/n) a silly badge.”

You stopped in your tracks.

“So that’s it. You think I’m so shallow that I’ll sell you out to the Headmaster, just to get Head Girl?”

“I’m not saying I haven’t considered it a likely liability.” He retorted, raising a brow. You despised how calm he sounded while telling you he didn’t trust you.

“Fine.” You smiled a cold smile. “I’m done with this. Cast a memory charm on me. Please, I insist. I don’t want to remember this and be a likely liability, neither do I want to remember you.” You took a step forward, shoving your hand into Newt’s pocket and pulling out his wand. “Come on, I’m sure you can go for another round of tormenting your friend and be in time for dinner if you obliviate me now.”

Newt stood there silently, stunned by not only what you were asking, but at what he’d said. “(Y/n)…”

“What? You have the nerve to kiss a girl you don’t trust, yet you can’t obliviate her?” You scoffed, dropping his wand to the floor. “Alright. But if you ever need to eliminate my liability, you know where to find me.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You hadn’t been in the library when Newt checked. Instead, he sought you out in a place he never thought he’d step foot in.

The Slytherin dungeon was a dark, damp place. Water trickled from the ceiling as Newt walked down the corridors, guided by one of the students who had let him in. It was a wonder that the sons and daughters of esteemed, powerful people would agree to live in such conditions. Once he reached the common room, Newt understood why. Amongst the expensive looking art and luxurious couches, the large windows left little room for the dark stone walls, teal light poured in through waving reeds of grassy plants on the lakebed. Mermaids swam, waving at some students as they passed by. And people were smiling, chatting together and laughing, a sight that could have fit right in at the Hufflepuff common room. Once again, the assumptions imbedded since his days as a student were ill-conceived.

“Her dorm’s just down that hall, last door on the left.” The little boy told Newt. “Will you give me a tip for my services, sir?” There was Slytherin quality he was familiar with.

“Silly me,” Newt chuckled, ruffling the boy’s blonde hair. “I’d almost forgotten.” He fished out a knut from the inner pocket of his vest, and placed it in the boy’s hand.

“Thanks, Mister.” The boy replied, then skipped off.

The hallway to your room was adorned with pillars encrusted with silver serpents, slowly gliding in coils around the base in a never-ending motion. It was a little unsettling, but even more so was the door leading to your dormitory. He couldn’t bring himself to knock; raising his fist only to let it fall back down with an exasperated huff. Confidence had fled his body, from the moment he started descending to the chambers underneath the Black Lake.

He was ready to turn and leave, but the door swung open faster than he could let out a startled “oh”. You stood there, a firm frown in your brow, looking not the least bit surprised that he was there.

“You.” Was the word that came to you, your tone laced with spite.

“Can I come in? Just for a moment.” Newt asked, fidgeting with his fingers by his side, to distract him from the pending ache of his heart.

You considered for a second, before letting out a taught breath and standing to the side. Wordlessly, you motioned for him to come in, shaking your head impatiently. Newt scuttled into the room, noticing that there were five empty beds, all neatly made.

“Let me remember Credence. Please.” You said as you took a seat on what he judged to be your personal bed. “I like knowing him.”

Newt collapsed beside you, bringing his hands up to cover his face. “You still think I’m going to obliviate you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” You uttered, this time more vulnerably. “I know you think I’m a snake. It’s just how it’s always been. ‘No one can trust a Slytherin, all they care about is themselves’.”

Newt surprised you by wrapping his strong arms around you, pulling you back to lay on the bed. He buried his face into your neck, and you could feel the tears falling onto your skin.

“I’m sorry for exploding earlier.” He whimpered, his voice just above a whisper.

You brushed a soothing hand through his honey locks, breathing in the fresh pine scent of his shampoo. “You barely even raised your voice, Newt. If that was an explosion, then my daily rants are ten tonne bombs.”

His lips twitched upwards as he looked at you, then imminently fell again. Bringing a cautious hand to your face, running a tentative touch across your lips.

“Will you forgive me?” He whispered, his eyelashes dark with tears.

“I’m very forgiving,” you said, “when it comes to the people I care about.” Leaning your face up, your lips pressed to his in a short peck. “I forgive you Newt. But I want you to know that I don’t value you only because you can help me achieve my goals. I like you for you. I value your empathy, the way you take all the punches life throws at you, and turn them into something positive. I value how you look at things, you consider all the variables. I especially adore the way you fidget when you’re nervous; I’ve never seen someone with such horribly nibbled nails.”

Newt let out a soft giggle. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.” He exhaled.

“We live in a largely dishonest world, Newt. I doubt everyone a minimum of three times a day.”

“That applies to me too?”

“Of course.” You readjusted your head, shooting him a playful smirk. “One: I doubted you’d show up at my dorm. Two: I doubted you would restrain from obliviating me. Three…” You paused, biting your lip. “Well, we’ve still got a couple hours of daylight for that one.”

Newt let his forehead press against yours, revelling in the normalcy that was your humour. For a moment, he thought he might be content to stay like that forever.

“Did something happen to you?” You asked, drawing him out of his peaceful silence. “I… I’m asking because I know what it’s like to have my trust broken. It leaves a mark that affects all the relationships you ever have.”

“Yes,” He answered, sitting up, “Something happened.”

You sat up as well, eyes wide and ready. It was the same look you always gave him when he taught you little lessons on creatures, or told one of the tales of his adventures. It was quite endearing.

“My mother always said I had too soft a heart. I’m easily manipulated because I see the good in people before the bad. Well, when I was about your age, I met a girl - Leta. She was a Slytherin, too. I adored her, and that’s a dangerous thing. I’d do anything for her, and I did do anything for her. She was obsessed with my ability to understand and catalogue creatures, and she used me for information. She took advantage of my skills, because she wanted to experiment with a Jarvey; a ferret like creature who is capable of speech. When it escaped our care and attacked another student, she abandoned me. I ended up getting expelled.”

“That’s… rough.” You said, bringing your hands up to run your fingers along his face. “I’m sorry, I’m not good at this whole thing where I make you feel better.”

“That’s alright. I feel better just being here with you.” He smiled, grabbing your fingers.

You were interrupted when the door swung open, revealing one of your roommates.

“Oh… sorry to intrude.” She apologised, watching Newt swiftly pull his hand back to his sides.

“That’s alright, Mandy.” You replied perkily. “Professor Scamander was just demonstrating how to check for skeletal fractures in the hand. It’s for an extra credit assignment, I don’t wanna bore you with the details.”

Mandy nodded, grabbing her scarf off her bedpost. “Alright. I’ll leave you to it then.” She gave a polite smile, then left.

Newt released a sigh, his shoulders relaxing. “That was close. You’re a very good liar.”

“That was probably the most horrible lie I’ve ever told.” You tittered. “I normally work well under pressure, but not when you’re so close to me.”

Newt grinned. “Hm? I make you nervous, do I?” His tickling hands reached your stomach, fluttering under your shirt and against your flesh. You laughed, trying to escape him.

“Stop! I’ll hex you!” You warned through your laughter.

“I like the sound of that.” He purred, playfully sinking his teeth into your neck.

The door swung open again with the clearing of a throat.

“Forgot my beanie…” Mandy said, awkwardly lingering at the door.

“Of course.” You blushed, watching her apprehensively come into the room to revive her hat. There was no lie that could come from your mouth that wouldn’t make you look guiltier, so you decided to not even try. “See you.”

“See you.” Mandy gave a weird smile, then left again.

Newt pulled you to him, capturing your lips with his. When he parted, breathless, he said “We’re going to have to be more careful.”

“For some reason,” you smiled, “I think careful isn’t exactly your forte.”


	6. Above Average

Mondays were always lethargic, laced with regret from the low amount of productivity achieved on the weekend. But this Monday was unlike any other; instead it was filled with sunshine that warmed your skin and a clammy hand clasped around yours.

Credence looked sick as he peered down the great height while the staircase jolted into action, shifting towards your desired hallway. His pale skin went even lighter in his fearful state, his body maintaining a slight shudder.

“Are you sure this is safe?” He asked, looming closer to you, his body curling into itself and subsequently into you.

“Not entirely.” You shrugged, tittering at the way his brown eyes grew large. “Don’t worry, if you fall I’ll… Well there’s not much I can do.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, “that’s really helpful (Y/n).”

“Hey, just stick close to me and you’ll be fine.”

He flicked his gaze to you, suddenly noticing that his anxiety had subconsciously driven him practically flush against you. When the staircase halted, he followed slowly, ever-thankful that you were patient with him as he took one step at a time, his taller figure hunched as he gripped your hand as if he were holding on for dear life.

When you both finally reached solid ground, Credence released a laboured breath, a small smile growing on his face. He finally straightened his back, his presence a lot more dominating than it had been before. He was definitely handsome; his dark hair growing longer and framing his face, the tendons and muscles in his arms more prominent and his skin a shade darker since he was helping Newt out a lot with the creatures while he was caught up with lessons. Credence’s eyes were still rimmed with dark circles, evidence that although the storm may have been over, his affliction and past still gave him grief.

“You look very handsome today, Creed.” You complimented, linking your arm with his. He stammered in his steps before becoming in sync with your smaller stride.

“Y-you really think so?” He said quietly, afraid he had somehow heard wrong.

“I know so.” You teased. “You’re right here in front of me, aren’t you?”

Credence blushed, turning his face away to avoid your eyes. “You shouldn’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because… Newt.” He sighed. “You’re together.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Firstly, we’re not really officially together. We can’t be. And secondly-“ You turned to him, choking on air as you finally got a good look at him. In the pure light cascading around his sharp angular face, his curious expression only endeared you to him more. You cleared your throat. “Secondly, I’m allowed to call you handsome because I’m simply stating the facts. It doesn’t have to mean anything else.”

Turning to walk off, Credence caught the soft flesh of your upper arm. He didn’t even try to hide the stare he let wander over you; perhaps because he didn’t even notice he was doing it.

“I-“ He bit his bottom lip, their fullness only emphasised by the action. “I’ve never been told I’m handsome before.” He then released an airy chuckle. “Well, by Queenie and Tina, but they don’t count.”

“You’re beautiful, Credence. No one needs to tell you that to make it true.”

The young man blinked a couple times, his mouth open with words escaping him. He gathered the small amount of courage he had, bent his head down, and placed a sweet kiss on your cheek. The bashful endeavour left you both grinning.

“We should uh, get to Newt’s class.” You said, motioning towards the turning corridor.

Credence nodded. “Yeah.” He then comfortably slid his hand into yours. “You know, you can be really nice when you want to be.”

“Don’t get used to it.” You joked, shoving your shoulder against his lightly.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sitting in the back of Newt’s lecture since you had a free period, you really absorbed the scope of his passion. It was a shame that half the class were transfixed on him rather than the topic, the girls at the front mostly concerned with twirling their hair and making suggestive expressions as they latched their lips around their water bottles or popped Bertie Bott’s flavoured beans into their mouths. You thought you, along with Credence, would make the lesson more bearable for Newt.

His vision snagged on your raised hand, a mirroring raised brow being formed on his face.

“Yes, Miss (Y/l/n).” He uttered with curiosity. You tried not to shiver at the formal tone he elicited when calling upon you.

“Professor Scamander,” You started, smirking at the way he similarly shifted in slight arousal at the way his title slipped off your tongue, “I was just wondering, Lobalugs can grow up to ten inches, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And Merpeople use them as weapons.” You continued.

“Exactly right.”

“Are there any other uses for them? I mean, of course their venomous sacks come in handy for defense against threats, but I’m sure their impressive length could wield a lot more uses.”

Newt coughed a little. “I don’t- Um, merpeople seldom even consider picking them up unless they really need to use them, so-“

“But what if, say, I was a mermaid and I just had a really bad itch to scratch.” You poised, leaning forward on your seat. “Say my merman is coming home late from work, the pacific highway is just backed up for miles. Wouldn’t you say that constitutes as a dire situation? Would, considering this hypothetical, mean that merpeople do indeed have uses for Lobalugs other than weapons?”

Newt sighed, trying to downplay how flustered he was. “You’re asking if they utilise them for sexual pleasure.”

“That’s exactly what I was getting at, Professor.”

“Well, my studies have not yet been concluded, but there is evidence to suggest such a thing occurs - rarely.”

A snicker came from the group of girls at the front, from which you could hear childish whispers being passed back a forth. Newt’s attention moved back towards you, however, when Credence lifted his own hand.

“Yes, Credence.” Newt sighed, relieved that he might get a reasonable question.

Credence looked at you with a sly grin, then back to his friend. “How long is your Lobalug?”

You outright laughed, squeezing Credence’s thigh as you tried to breathe through the wave of giggles that sucked the air out of your lungs.

“…Excuse me?” Newt muttered, the whole class trying to hold back their amusement.

“I know you have one in your case.” Credence shrugged. “Is it the average size? Above?”

Newt swallowed, running a hand through his honey locks as he shook his head, a smile emerging onto his face.

“Yes, Credence. It’s above average.” His seafoam eyes then obviously latched onto yours, sending a clear message. He wouldn’t make this lesson easy if you didn’t grant him any mercy.

As the hour stretched on, Newt’s gaze would regularly fall back onto you. He rolled up his sleeves, exposing the white scars that littered his freckly forearms. Just watching the way he stretched up to grab a piece of chalk, exposing the flesh of his V-line, it drove you crazy. He could have just as easily written on the board with the flick of his wand, but it was now blatantly clear that he wanted to torture you as well.

He even went as far to call upon a volunteer for a demonstration. Of course a line of hands shot up in the front row, some girls bouncing eagerly as to capture Newt’s attention. He smirked as he eyed you, but you simply sat back, your hands in your lap.

“Miss (Y/l/n).” He called. “You appear enthusiastic to participate. Come down here.”

You shook your head, standing up. Your hands brushed along Credence’s shoulders as you walked past him, feeling the shiver he gave underneath your fingertips. All eyes were on you as you walked down towards Newt, and it made you somewhat nervous. The two of you were rarely ever seen together, and to be in each other’s close presence worried you that you might come off as noticeably interested in each other.

Stepping in front of the man, you crossed your arms, trying to hide your apprehension with a façade of indifference.

“Hold out your hand, please.”

“Right or left?” You toyed. Newt shook his head with a small chuckle, pulling one of your hands out of their crossed demeanour. He tended to forget other people were around when you were there, so the forward move didn’t cross his mind as inappropriate, while the other students were thrown off by the apparent close relationship you shared.

He pulled your hand, drawing your whole arm up. “Now if you’ll just take note of the way Miss (Y/n)’s shoulder blades move.” He urged the class, making a freestyle type of stroke with your arm. “Her shoulder pops out as the arm moves, similar to that of many creatures. But when analysing a creature like a Pogrebin, their spines and smaller shoulder blades limit their movement, meaning they cannot possibly swim.” He lectured, poking his thumbs into your shoulders, coming to stand behind you. The switch of position rendered you under Newt’s touch, his subtle scent wafting past you.

He then brought a hand down to the small of your back, the other wrapping around to be placed on top of your stomach. With an encouraging amount of pressure, he had you bending forward. You tried to contain your laughter – the position would have seen highly suggestive to the audience of students.

“See the curve that Miss (Y/n) displays? This would be impossible on the likes of a Pogrebin, who’s manoeuvrability is restricted to the bending of its knees instead of the mobility of its neck or spine. Remember these points, I can tell you they will be in your exam.”

The baffled students suddenly seemed to wake up, grabbing their quills to quickly jot down the information their Professor had given them. While they were busy, Newt tugged you back up, whispering a husky “thanks” into your ear.

After class was over, you stayed back with Credence, both onlooking the infatuated girls who also lingered to try to talk to the Professor. Georgina, the Gryffindor prefect, was at the forefront of the group.

“You should go talk to him.” Credence suggested. “He’s never going to get away from them if you don’t give him an excuse.”

You shrugged, resting your feet up. “I like watching him suffer.” You joked. “Why don’t you go interrupt the fan club? I’m sure a few of them will latch onto you. You might get laid.”

“…Laid?” He uttered confusedly.

“Yeah, Credence.” You smiled, amused. “Laid. Fucked. Banged.”

“Oh,” he blushed, “but I don’t want to have sex with any of them. I’ve never even had sex.” He paused, cringing at the words that he had just openly uttered. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Don’t be sorry, handsome.” You cooed, punching him lightly in the shoulder. Your heart fell when he flinched. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay.” He smiled, catching your recoiling hand in his, pressing a reassuring kiss to the back of it.

You liked that you could be this way with him; easy and open. He’d told you his deepest secrets and fears one late night, and you’d told him yours. He was such an amazing person to confide in, and in return you loved to shower him in well-deserved affections.

“I’ll go save our damsel.” You said, getting up. Credence nodded, his hand not leaving yours until you passed him, his fingers grazing over yours as they drifted apart.

“I’m going to take a nap.” Credence called, moving to get up and head towards the door. “I didn’t know school was so tiring.”

You laughed, waving him goodbye as you made your way towards the group around Newt. His eyes popped up, following you as you slipped through the students, making your way to the front.

“(Y/n)!” Newt greeted, cutting into the ramblings Georgina had been vocalizing. She frowned, turning to you with a scowl.

“Hello Professor Scamander.” You replied.

“Thank you for being such a wonderful test subject today.” He continued, pretending as if there weren’t students eager to talk to him.

“No problem.” You smiled. “You can test on me any day you like.”

“What are you doing here, Slytherin.” Georgina spat. “This is a Gryffindor and Hufflepuff joint class, and last I checked you were too busy to take up Care of Magical Creatures anyway.”

“I’m truly flattered by your insistent need to keep up to date with my personal schedule, Georgina. I was just popping in today as an outside notetaker, for the students who missed the class today, since I had a free period.” You lied with ease. “I’m also humbled by you calling me Slytherin, but as I am not a descendent of Salazar himself, I’d prefer for you to just call me by (Y/n), thanks.”

“Speaking of which, I really should double check those notes for you.” Newt interceded.

“I can take notes for you next time Professor, I don’t mind!” Georgina interrupted. “I’m very good at it.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I don’t think any more students will be away after this lesson. If they are, I’ll be sure to call upon you.”

Georgina wore a smug smirk as she took his half-acceptance. She turned around, whipping her ponytail as she sauntered out with her chin held high. Her entourage dawdled behind her, upset that they hadn’t gotten their chance to personally speak with the handsome Professor. As soon as the door closed, Newt breathed a sigh of relief.

“They really are thick.” You said. “They didn’t even notice that no one was actually away today.”

“It’s just your affinity for telling lies; you do it with such confidence that it inhibits their common sense.” He smiled, pulling you closer to him, his fingers playing with the hem of your skirt, whispering touches being left to the soft flesh of your thighs. “You were a horrible student, by the way.” He told you, leaning in until his lips were barely brushing over yours.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You retorted. “You couldn’t even keep your hands off me when we were in front of an entire classroom.”

“To be fair, you’re extremely irresistible.” He chuckled, pushing you against his desk. “Do you know how difficult it is to teach while you’re here?” Brushing your hair off your shoulders, he stooped until his lips had access to the sweet spot on your neck. “Don’t deny that you were hiking that skirt up so I could see your panties underneath the desk. You’re a very, very bad student.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. All my other Professors tell me I’m a pleasure to have in their class.” You moaned, threading your fingers into his hair. 

“Oh, I don’t deny that.” He grumbled against your skin. “But I’m still waiting for you to pleasure me.” And with that he rolled his hips into yours, slow and purposeful, until you could feel every inch of his above average anticipation.

Newt’s eyes were blown with lust, his pupils large and hungry as you licked your lips, moving your hands up his chest. The room had grown tenser, Newt’s flesh below your fingertips much hotter than it should have been normally. His hands were bolder, sliding up now and gathering your skirt as he gripped your hips, hoisting you on top of his desk. With the flick of his wrist the shutters had closed on the doors and windows.

“Is this alright?” His low tone beckoned, the vein in his neck standing prominent as he restrained himself from having all of you at once.

“Yes.” You replied, for once not having a joke on the edge of your tongue, ready to utilise. “Newt, I want you.”

“And I want you, sweetheart.” He returned, running a tender touch in between your thighs, parting them so that he could rest in the middle. His hips dipped into yours, a low groan bubbling in his throat as his head fell back, the small amount of friction so heavenly against his pulsing cock.

His movements were calculated now, his lips capturing yours in a sudden hit of passion, his hands sturdy and sure as they tugged at the hem of your shirt, pulling upwards. The flurry of tongues and dancing lips was broken for a second as he pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in your bra. With an animalistic growl, Newt lowered his head, biting roughly over the lace fabric. Leaning back, propped up by the palms of your hands, your arms were starting to shake under the feeling of Newt’s eager body hovering over yours, nipping at the flesh of your breasts while simultaneously dry humping into your wet core.

“Oh fuck.” He mumbled airily, his head falling into your chest, his hands taking a firm hold on your hips as he rocked into you, his thighs shaking in soft pleasure. “Need. More.” He panted against your nipple, tugging your bra down and biting down to emphasise his dire need to fill you.

“Take me.” You breathed, not even finishing your sentence before Newt was pulling your body to the edge of the desk, his hands fumbling with his pants. Your eyes followed his movements, eyeing the large bulge in his pants, then his boxer shorts, then-

Oh. He was definitely above average. His length slapped against his stomach, the tip red and leaking with precum. He stroked his cock twice, and your core pulsed as your watched it twitch up, desperate for attention.

“Like what you see?” He smirked, his voice tinged with a shy undertone as his cheeks flushed in brilliant red.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Almost as much as I like your stupid face- mmph.”

He chuckled, running his tip along your folds, causing you to shudder. “Darling, I didn’t know all it took to shut you up was my penis.”

“You’re hilarious.” You expelled sarcastically.

Newt responded by leaning over you, his chest pressed to yours with his cock’s tip barely pushing into your hole. “I have my moments.” He uttered, pushing into you slowly. “Is this okay?” He asked through a taught breath, lips pressing across your collarbones.

“Y-yes.” With your eyes squeezed, you tried not to let out the low moan that threatened to break at the edge of your throat. Your hands dug into Newt’s forearms, trying to find an anchor in them to stop the shaking that had taken up in your entire body.

“My, you’re tight.” He cursed, pushing himself in to the hilt. Once there, he waited a couple moments, brushing your hair behind your ears and placing loving kisses on your cheeks. His gaze held yours, searching intently for any hint of apprehension or want to escape. But all he gathered was the utter desire and longing swirling in your (Y/e/c) eyes.

“So big.” You moaned, rocking your hips needily against the large girth that filled you. “Please Newt.”

Newt tutted. “I only respond to my formal title in this classroom.” He spoke, teasing your slit with his thumb in tantalizingly slow swipes.

“Professor?” You said. Apparently you were correct in your assumption, as Newt released a grunt, his length pulsing inside you in arousal. “Fuck me, Professor Scamander.”

“Fffff-.” He whispered, roughly thrusting his hips out and in. “Oh my god, you’re marvellous.” He announced, watching the way your tits bounced as he rocked into you. His grip tightened around your middle as his pace became unforgiving, his brows drawn in permanent effort as his cock stroked your G-spot, urging a loud whimper from your lips each time.

“Newt- Professor.” You corrected yourself. “Please, I wanna come. Make me cum.”

“Since you’re such a good girl.” He smirked, pulling out. You whined, but only for a second before he shoved you around, pulling your skirt up again and laying a sharp slap onto your ass. Your body jolted forward, the initial sting dissolving into a more intense pleasure as he slipped his dick back into you.

Newt brought one hand up to your hair, twirling it around his hand and pulling to create the perfect arch with your back.

“Could a Pogrebin do this, hm?” You teased.

“No.” Newt retorted, a smug grin on his face. “That would have ruined the mood, but I don’t think anything you say could do so when I have- ugh, this view.” He shoved himself in coarsely, while hitting your ass at the same time. The added stimulant had you clawing at the desk, leaving lighter indents in the dark wood as you reached your high. You wanted to challenge him on that statement, but white spots began dancing in your vision.

“I’m gonna cum.” You panted, the peaks of your nipples rubbing against the furniture delightfully as Newt only quickened his speed, adding his calloused fingertips to the mix.

“Cum, baby girl. Cum for daddy.” He ordered, with his fingers now running circles around your sensitive clit.

“So that’s how it is?” You barely uttered. “Daddy.”

He seemed to like this iteration even more so than Professor, evident in the way he swore loudly, pushing his hand under your chest and pulling you up.

“Say that again.” He purred, his cock burying up and into you as his hand had moved to your throat, turning your chin towards him so you could take in his tightly knit expression.

“Make me cum, daddy.” You laced the statement like a dripping aphrodisiac.

“Yes yes yes.” He panted, shoving into you while trying to kiss you. The result was an open mouth pressed to yours in sloppy kisses and muffled moans. “Cum for me, love.” He urged.

With one final thrust you were both toppling off the edge, your body falling flush against the cold wooden surface as you rode out the intense high. Newt’s seed shot into you, proving a warmth along with your orgasm, pulling out only to have it drip down your thighs. In a shuddering final act, Newt bent down, licking his own cum all the way up to your pussy, giving your body a last shock.

Looking down at you, with your clothes ravaged and a red hand print on each cheek, Newt leant over to kiss your pinkened cheeks, leaving a tired smile of your lips. He thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever gotten the honour to witness, let alone make love to.

“I’ve learned a lot today.” You sighed. “Thanks, Professor.”

He huffed a laugh, pulling you up and into a tight embrace.

“Don’t get me started again, young lady.”


	7. Picture-Perfect Prefect

She laughs as she tends to the children, whispering soft spells to heal scraped knees, giving out hugs as easily as she gives me smiles. It’s amusing how I notice the tension that forms between her eyebrows whenever a group of Gryffindors pass, the way she stares them down, defiant and protective of the young. But with a more comprehensive consideration, I realise that the reasons for which she acts this particular way is entirely justified.

There are too many Georginas in the world. People who seek to gain fame, to be loved by all. Bold in a way that demeans others. But she is something so much more complex. She deserves love, but instead seeks to be envied. She lives for a different type of distinction; the type that deems her the best, but only in her own terms. And for some reason, the condescending notion often related to this way of thinking just simply doesn’t exist in her case. She wants to be smarter than most, to be praised for her efforts of obtaining such a vast set of knowledge, but only because she wants to understand everyone and everything. She likes herself, but only when people tell her to.

She is caring, and loving, and in every way the perfect companion. But everything about her is contradictory. She strives for excellence, thinks in rational terms instead of emotional, and although she seems to be forgiving, she holds every wrong done to her close to her heart, like the master poker player she is. In an interesting way, she is like a brand-new species to study. Someone so different to most, but in subtle, calculated ways.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever know her, if I’ll ever understand the inner workings of that beautiful, intricate mind. But I hope I get to. Otherwise, I don’t think I could justify having her as mine. She needs someone to know, someone to see her as she is, underneath the several dimensions and façades that she hides her true self under. I’ve seen her in glimpses, though. In candid smiles and hitched breaths.

And she is perfect, in every single flaw she bears in front of me. Every scowl, every smile, and every breath. She only becomes more beautiful the more she reveals her faults. It makes me wonder if she sees other people as idiotic for putting their problems on display for the first person to see. That maybe she’s discovered a superior way of being, of portraying herself to the world.

And she is beautiful. Even when she takes house points away from misbehaving students in the hall, her stern expression never reaching her eyes as she speaks in serious yet comforting tones. How she manages to be both ice and fire, both calm and fury, I may never know.

No one might ever know. And maybe that’s why she’s always been so convinced that she’s better off alone. But now she’s giving me a chance. A chance to solve the enigma that is her tapping foot, her tilted head as she asks me “what’re you looking at?” as she struggles to restrain a light-hearted smile.

“I am looking at you.” I reply, “And I see you.”

The words strike her, a soft caress turned into a steel arrow as the context sears into her mind. Her face falls, her mouth agape as she looks at me, eyes flickering over the freckles she compliments in sweet confessions.

“I have to head back to the library now.” She says, unnerved by how flustered I make her. She’s not used to being so thrown off guard, her cool demeanour broken if only for a split second. “Care to accompany me?”

“Always.” I say, easily. I wish I could offer her my hand, guide her with her gentle fingers wrapped around my arm. But the fact still presides that in public I cannot be hers, and she cannot be mine. Only shadows can facilitate the erratic beating my heart gives when I look at her. Shadows that might threaten to swallow her up and take her as its own if I don’t claim her in the light.

But no, I don’t own her. She belongs to no one. And maybe that’s the fatal mistake I always make when it comes to her: assuming that she will ever settle in one place. She has a chameleon personality. Light and bubbly with the children, intelligent and articulate with the professors. I’m not even sure if the side she shows me is entirely genuine. Maybe it’s genuine in its own sense, that it’s who she is when she’s with me.

I don’t know her yet, but at least seeing her is enough to appease that tornado inside of her. The hot air chasing the cold. turning into an equilibrium that settles for the progress I’ve made, and hopefully the love that I’ll finally profess once I can say those words and mean them with every thrum of my desperate heart.

I know you.  
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“Could you assist me, please, Newton?” You asked quietly, smiling at the honeycomb locks that peeked out from around the bookcase.

“Of course, Miss. Librarian.” He uttered, slinking towards you. “Assistant Scamander, at your service.”

You let a light chuckle tickle your lips. “Mind getting that green book from the top shelf?” You pointed.

“Certainly.” He reached up, his white dress shirt riding up and revealing his defined v-line. He caught your eye, a devilish smirk on his freckled lips as he made an effort to draw out the movement, bringing the book down and shielding it behind crossed arms. Arms made of faded spots and white scars, coated in pink undertones.

You knew you weren’t going to get the book as easily as you had hoped when Newt disregarded your outstretched hand.

“I’m not sure if you’re unfamiliar with basic gestures and the intentions behind them, but my hand is open and ready to receive my requested book.” You toyed.

“Oh, you’re so utterly right, my darling. I’m not at all familiar with such concepts. You see, I think more in… animalistic terms of understanding reactions and intentions.” He spoke coolly. “For example, I noticed the way your chest rose as you eyed my beltline. I can assume from that, that your chest tightened in response for wanting to plant your delicious lips all over me.”

“And what can you judge from the look I’m giving you now?” You asked.

Newt laughed as he assessed the stern annoyed expression you emitted. “You want me to hand over the book, I know. But I’m not refraining just to annoy you.”

“Really? And here I was, thinking that was your main purpose in life.”

He sighed, tapping his fingers on the spine of the thick volume. “I wish.” He teased. “No, I wanted to ask for something in return of my services.”

“You’re not going to ask me to get on my knees, are you? I still have a few hours of book sorting to get through.” You joked.

Newt pushed the book out, allowing your hands to take it, but still holding in in his grasp.

“I want you to go on a date with me.”

“What?” You couldn’t contain the giddiness that leapt from your stomach. “And how will you manage to do that?”

“Well, normally you answer with a yes or no, but I plan to set up a picnic by the lake. I know it’s your favourite spot on school grounds, and on Thursday there will be no one around during the Quidditch match.”

“Yes.” You breathed. “Yes, that sounds lovely.”

It was a yes given not only because you had an affinity for the Magizoologist, but a yes that emphasised your pleasure in his ability to deduct where your favourite place was. It was a private thought, you’d never actually told anyone that you preferred the spot over all others, but Newt was perceptive enough to piece together all the times you’d spoken about it with a certain fondness.

Newt’s grip released on the book, and you found yourself somewhat burdened by the weight of holding it on your own.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am looking at a picture of her, and it makes me feel safe. Even with the conflict inside of me, the shadows pulling at every fibre of my being. Just the thought of her calms the swelling tides of black. Her room is shared with others, and even just comparing the variations of style of the posters on the walls, I can tell that this girl is so different from the others.

Before her, I thought being different was simply a burden. Something to be hidden, buried away so that no one could call you a “freak”. But she’d wear that name as a badge of pride, if it meant she was who she wanted to be.

Even with tears obstructing my vision, I observe the various pictures pinned to the wall above her bed. A Slytherin scarf is wrapped around the headboard, and above floats pictures of family, friends, images from various events that she probably holds dear to her heart. A photograph with teachers who had left the school, a picture of all the ingredients for her potions organised. Moving images of her laughing with faces I’d seen around the dorms.

But there was one that caught my attention, causing the tears to flow even more freely, if only in joy. It was of a timid boy, his fingers tracing over the words of a book as he read slowly. He hadn’t even noticed she had taken it, the moving picture of his first time being taught how to read by her. Mary-Lou had given me the basic knowledge, but (Y/n) had insisted on broadening my vocabulary.

She had been taking a photo the entire time she guided me through the second sentence of the book. Correcting me as he read along, easy and simple, without judgement. She was patient, listening to every slowly pronounced word that I tasted and familiarised myself with.

“The most potent in-ingredient ever created is the blood of a Dragon. The rarest of which is the… Anti-po… po-de-an Opal-eye.”

“Antipodean Opaleye.” She had repeated. “Very good, Creed.”

I now understood why she values praise so much. How that esteem could fill your heart with such light, that make you feel like the most important person in the world.

Even now, as she entered her room, a soft “oh Creed” escaping her soft lips. It fills me with a light that doesn’t exactly expel the darkness, but provids an equal opposite to the wrath that it inherently procures.

She is a balance. With every wiped tear she leaves a kiss on my cheek, alternating between them until the number of times the action was taken was equal to its adversary. Until I stopped her fussing with my pale hands cradling her face.

“I’m sorry.” Because I couldn’t help but feel as if I was a stain on her perfect existence just by being there, in her presence.

“Don’t be.” She cooed. “I’ll always have time for you, handsome.”

I would never understand how that nickname stuck; how she could, even now, see a handsome man out of a frail boy.

“I needed to see you.” I confessed. “Sometimes I get so lonely, and I think too much.”

She smiled, pressing a kiss to my nose. Then she told me the words I didn’t even know I’d been longing for.

“You don’t need to think, you don’t need to speak. I know you, and I’ll help you realise that who you are is someone who will never be alone again.”

That was when I realised I loved her. And that even though Newt and I were vastly different people, we now shared something in common.

We love the picture-perfect prefect. The girl of swirling storms and calm waters. The girl who could judge heaven for its angels, and make the devil bend at the knee.

She sees me, this imperfect shadow of a person, and she accepts it. She knows me, down to the black scarring on my wrists, and the wounds left in my mind. She knows my power, sees it as an extension of me, and tells me that it’s okay. That she likes it just the same as the rest of me.

I see the girl sitting beside me, holding my hands as she lets me rest my head on her shoulder. I see the intentions, the desires, and the morals she holds in regard to me.

And because of this, I feel as if I know her.


	8. Jealousy Induced

“Can I hold your hand?”

The question was asked on quivering lips; a pale face turned slightly away to avoid the ricochet of the ammo he’d just fired. Soft words to anyone else, but a potential noose around his white neck, and he had just kicked the chair out from under his feet.

The answer he received was the light of a thousand stars – it’s conduit a rosy smile, and smaller fingers snaking their way in between his. The wind suddenly blew without its usual chill, the trees singing their soft symphony of rustling leaves and creaking branches.

Hogwarts was a truly beautiful place. Probably the most beautiful place Credence had ever been. New York City was a sight, sure, but not to someone who’d been entrapped in the grey high rises. There was a certain type of clarity that the open air brought, fresh and wild. Gone were the days where he’d drag himself along the calculated routes, through neighbourhoods that were embellished with chain-link fences. No, now he was free to walk through the grass, to squint at the bright sun that glittered on the still lake water. The sun that somehow felt a whole lot warmer here.

“I like it here.” He said, his lungs bright with the breath of clean air.

With a squeeze to his scarred hand, you responded. “It’s nice, if you don’t count the dangerous creatures that call these lands their home.”

“I think… that’s what true peace is. Being able to live among beasts, and still feel safe.” He spoke quietly, afraid he might’ve been too preachy.

“Yeah.” You replied, glancing at him. “You gonna tell me which verse of the bible that’s from?” You teased.

“Credence 5:19.” He joked back.

The laugh that followed was the sweetest wine he could have swallowed, purer than the blood of his saviour or the faith he clung to. “Good to know I’m in the company of the thirteenth apostle. Please, put in a good word for me with the big man.”

“You would have much better luck yourself.” He smiled. “Being an angel, and all.”

The moon eclipsing couldn’t even hope to compare to the way your bottom lip disappeared under your teeth, a light blush being left in wake. You swung a woven basket in your hand, swinging Credence’s with the other. The silence that followed was filled with the song of birds, lazing about in the afternoon sun, along with the crunching of your two pairs of feet on the gravelly dirt path.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, only half breaking the gentle ease that had settled.

“Better.” He nodded. “A lot better.”

Taking a peak at his arm, the flashes of black still hurt to look at. It pained you so much to know that it was something he couldn’t control, something that seeped out of him like a curse, bound to his anger and self-loathing.

Seeing you looking, he let his hand fall out of yours, trying to subtly hide it behind his back. With a small sigh, you snatched it up again, pressing a kiss to the blackened veins on his wrist before holding his hand tight. The sentiment sent a jolt through his body; a heavenly light that tingled all the way up his right arm to his chest.

“There’s the spot.” You told him, picking up your pace in excitement as you make your way over to the tuft of grass right on the edge of the forest. Providing ample shade and a great view of the lake, you thought it made a great picnic spot.

The both of you helped set up the area: picking up stones and sticks that were in the way, then placing down the picnic blanket. The day was a perfect blue sky with clouds that blew over much faster in the warm breeze. You had brought an array of fresh fruit and cheeses for the lunch, as well as a few sweet treats that Credence had been sent by his friend who was a baker.

Unravelling the brown paper bag labelled Kowalski Quality Baked Goods, you split a muffin in half, giggling as the crumbs sprinkled themselves onto your shirts. It was blissful just being able to exist in each other’s presence, watching the boy you care about fill himself with sugary delight, his face regaining the colour it had lost last night.

“Hey Creed, can you guess who this is?” You asked, licking your fingers as you picked up a fuzzy peach. “Love thy neighbour, hex thy enemy, kiss thine ass.” You put on a deep voice as you spoke.

“Ha ha, very funny. I would never say that.” He droned with a smile.

You took a bite of the juicy fruit. “But you are a peach.” You smiled a chubby-cheeked grin. “A preachy peach.”

“So you’d bite me too?”

The question had been intended as wholly innocent, but of course your mind immediately strayed. Laughing your initial reaction off, you replied. “I’m not mean to my friends; I’d never bite them.”

“And… I’m your friend?” he asked, quietly hopeful. He had experience with placing his faith in things that weren’t entirely there. Now he was praying for any hint that your heart cried out the same way as his did.

“Of course you’re my friend, Creed.” You said, placing a hand on his forearm. “You’ve come to mean so much to me.” The way your thumb subconsciously ran up and down made him melt.

“O-okay.” He stumbled, his arm beginning to shake.

You frowned, bringing your other hand into the mix. You realised his sensitivity, and with a gentle laugh, began to drive him even more crazy with your touch. With one hand wrapped around his wrist, the other started drawing long strokes against his forearm with the tips of your fingernails. Credence sighed a moan, his head falling back.

“That feels- really good.” He grinned, trying to stay put under the ticklish yet satisfying caress. He didn’t care anymore that your fingers were passing over the black stains his affliction had left, he didn’t even care that he was practically coming undone at your orgasmic petting. He felt so at peace, so happy. He didn’t think anything could ruin the moment.

Until another voice interrupted the feather-light arm massage.

“(Y/n)? Credence?”

Even though you had been nothing wrong, by instinct your hands guiltily shot back to your sides. “Newt!” You smiled. “What are you doing here?”

The Professor cast a wary eye over the two of you, his fingers nervously tapping on the book he held. “I was wandering the grounds looking for a good spot to read.” He answered slowly. “What are you doing here?”

Choosing to ignore the accusatory tone in his question, you simply said. “Having a picnic.”

“By the lake.” Newt added gruffly.

“Yes, well, it’s right there, isn’t it?”

Credence watched on nervously, picking up on the cool anger restrained in Newt’s expression, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I thought I told you that I planned to take you here.”

“You did.” You frowned at the increasingly perplexing man. “Does that mean I’m not allowed to take my friends here?”

“Well, I just thought it would be our special place…”

“Newt, this has been my special place since I was a first year.” You shook your head, an ironic smile painted on your face as the light-hearted conversation was beginning to take a downturn. “I’ve been taking my friends here for years.”

“And now you’ve brought Credence.”

“Yes, I have. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, not at all.”

Credence went to stand. “I’m sorry, I’ll go-“ You tugged on his arm, urging him to stay.

“No Credence, I think Newt is the one that should leave.” You interrupted sternly, your icy gaze locked onto Newt’s defiant one.

He straightened his back. “I have a student to tutor. Goodbye.”

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes.

“One student, actually.” He said matter-of-factly. “I’ve agreed to help Georgina with her studies.”

“You’re a bad liar, Newt.” You chuckled. “Your tell is in your brows. They do a weird-“ you wiggled your fingers, “wobbly thing.”

Newt’s heart opened up, just a bit, in that moment. His jealousy being penetrated by a bright light. That light being the fact that you knew him well enough to notice his changes in expression, and what they meant. But then he looked back to the way you held Credence’s hand, so boldly, as if you didn’t care who saw.

He was never an angry person. His frustrations manifested internally, his responses trained to be as professional as possible. But in that moment, he wanted to scream. How you could fill his heart with happiness, but just as easily quash it, he thought just wasn’t at all fair. And with new feelings, new methods were procured as ways to deal with it.

He had never been a petty person. But as he stomped away, his heart falling as he overhead the words “passive aggressive” falling from your lips, he wanted to defy your expectations. He decided to no longer be a passive onlooker, to get something he had never before pursued.

Revenge.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Normally, you were the one to be the quieting force in the library, your task being to keep the common sections at a low murmur. But Credence wasn’t helping, making you crack with hushed laughter every moment he saw fit.

“Shh.” You pressed your hand to his mouth. “I thought you said you were going to help me, not hinder me.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault someone decided to name a potion-“ he squinted at your textbook, “Befuddlement Draught,” or “…Fu- fungiface.”

Just the combined effect of the silly name and Credence’s struggle to read it out made you crack up again, his large hand coming up this time to hush you.

“Shush your fungiface or we’ll get kicked out.” He whispered.

“I can’t get kicked out of my own library.” You mumbled against his palm. The feeling of your lips brushing against his skin, against the white scar along his palm, felt sinful.

Credence took a shallow breath, nodding. “We need to get you back on track.”

You raised a brow, urging him to go on.

“You’ve become too distracted. I know you like Newt, but you have to focus on your education.”

“Since when were you my mother?” You chuckled, picking up your quill.

“Since you have to have someone to tell you to get back to work. How else will you become Head Girl?”

Lifting your quill, you tickled his nose with the feather. “You’re a saint. And a peach. You’re my peachy saint sent down to guide me.”

“Yes. Now, work.” He said, pointing at your book.

“But I don’t wanna.” You whined, turning to him. “You’re much too fun to be around.”

“Me?” He scoffed. “Fun? I don’t think those two words go together.”

“They’re as synonymous and ‘you’ and ‘me’.” You stated proudly. “Okay, how about this. For every exercise I complete, you have to give up one piece of information about yourself.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know everything about you, Creed.”

He blushed. “Alright. But you have to tell me something about yourself too.”

“Didn’t you ever learn from your sermons that you shouldn’t ever make deals with the devil?” You teased. “Too late now.”

“Okay, just do your work.” He pressed, trying to hide his giddy smile.

A couple minutes passed, and when the scratching of your quill ceased, Credence surrendered his first piece of information in a hushed whisper.

“My favourite fruit is apples.”

“Not peaches?”

“They’re a close second.”

You tutted playfully, “Looks like you’re not at all the man I assumed you to be. This will be a very enlightening experience indeed.”

“And yours?”

“Hmm… I like apples too. And blueberries. And mangoes. Hell, there’s too many to choose.”

“That’s alright.” He said. “You don’t have to choose. Nobody says you can’t enjoy more than one thing.”

“In that case, my favourite fruit is all the fruit I like eating.”

The afternoon went on like that, sharing bits of information with each other, which proved to be a successful mechanism of getting you to finish your work. The only thing left was to put the books you’d borrowed for your studies away.

“Need a boost?” Credence asked, looking at the empty spot too high for arm’s length. The last book lay in your arms.

“Not when I have this.” You said, twirling around your wand. “But, I suppose we could do it the Squib way.”

“That’s not nice.” He chuckled, kneeling. You stepped onto his clasped hands, being lifted right to the spot. “Wait, is that-“

“What-“ You turned and felt your stomach drop to the floor. But not before you lost your balance and did so yourself. Credence luckily caught you just in time, your eyes glued to the swinging hinges of the restricted section’s doors.

“I don’t believe it.” You muttered, taking no further notice of Credence as you followed where you’d seen Georgina slip into. As an annoyance, you could put up with the Gryffindor prefect. But now that she was intruding on your turf, when she had teased you so relentlessly for being placed on library duty? No, she would have to pay.

Credence followed close behind as you slipped into the sectioned off shelves, nodding as you placed a finger to your lips, signalling for him to be as quiet as you. The noises that greeted you the further you creeped made you shudder in disgust. Books were thudding onto the floor, and what sounded like the world’s sloppiest kiss was occurring on the other side of the shelf.

With cautious, nimble hands, you slid out one of the smaller volumes to get a peek before confronting her. Peering through the gap, you could barely make out the girl as she pounced on her victim, her breathing heavily annunciating each pop and slurp of her mouth.

“Got you.” You whispered, stalking down the aisle. Turning, you held your wand up, not to threaten her with violence, but just in case you needed to separate the two.

Your wand fell to the floor with a sharp gasp as your eyes analysed the scene.

Georgina was kissing Newt. Your Newt. And he was kissing her back.

You quickly retreated behind the bookcase, greeting Credence’s fiery eyes. You didn’t notice tears had been streaming down your face before he wiped your cheeks, his jaw clenching in anger. He pushed out from behind the corner, his hands bunched into fists.

“How could you!” He yelled with a crack in his voice. “She trusted you!”

Newt separated from Georgina, looking a little frazzled. “Credence.” He cleared his throat, readjusting his tie.

“You’ve ruined it all.” Credence continued. “You’ve tainted her favourite place. And with her, of all people.” His eyes glistened, and hearing his wobbly voice reach a steady, dark place, you knew this wouldn’t end well. “How could you?”

You sunk to your knees, not able to come out from hiding. You couldn’t face him; not when your heart was crumbling to pieces.

“She did it to me first, Credence.” He argued calmly, “And with you, of all people.”

“She didn’t do jack shit Newt.” Credence retorted. “She was helping me feel better. I had an outburst, and she took care of me.”

“By having her hands all over you?”

“It’s much different than having her lips all over me.”

“Professor, what’s this about?” Georgina whined, obviously annoyed at the intrusion and confused by the argument.

“It’s none of your business.” He grunted, pushing away from her. “How dare you? You know full well I saw her kissing you.”

“When? Where?”

“O-on your hand.”

“Do you know how childish you sound?” Credence asked. “The man I used to idolize.”

“This isn’t about you. It’s about her. She needed to know that I wouldn’t stand by idly as this went on.” He said. “She needs to know that I will not have my heart toyed with, she needs to know how it feels.”

“You… You know she’s here!” Credence yelled, exploding into a ball of rage. “You planned this whole thing!” He shoved Newt against the bookshelf, his power fabricating at his fingertips in violent flickers.

Georgina squealed, running off. As she passed you, you whispered an “Obliviate”, her memory of this event and her involvement with Newt slowly being erased as she ran out. By the time she was at the library’s door, she had no idea why she was there.

Turning your attention back to the argument, you took a deep breath, exposing yourself. Seeing how Newt’s face fell told you that he still loved you. That he was still, under his frustration, Newt. But he wasn’t the Newt you knew.

Summoning as much clarity as possible, you said. “I don’t know you anymore.”

“(Y/n), listen-“

“You don’t deserve a hearing.” Credence growled, his pupils diluting to a bright white. “You hurt her. You manipulated her!” To Credence, it was the worst thing you could do to a person. He never wanted you to ever go through something similar to what quite literally broke him.

“Credence, you don’t understand.” He said, slowly retrieving his wand. “(Y/n), please-“

Credence once again shoved Newt, silencing him. “Don’t you dare talk to her.”

“Credence.” You huffed. “Let him go.”

“(Y/n)-“ Newt reached out, trying to touch you, tears spilling over his seafoam eyes. Credence retaliated by taking his arm and shoving it roughly against his back, the black power swirling now bringing bruises to the surface of Newt’s freckled skin.

“Stop!” You shouted.

Nothing else was needed to get Credence back to his normal form, the shadows fleeting at your demanding tone.

“Oh,” He rubbed his head, dazed from using his power. He turned to you, trying to take your hand. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” You shook your head, taking a step back from the two. “No. I refuse to be the cause of this.”

“(Y/n), it was a mistake. I see that now.” Newt cried, rubbing his injured arm.

You continued to walk backwards, until you heard a sickening crunch. You had stepped on your wand, snapping it. Your favourite place in the library had been ruined, and the two people you cared most for had changed so suddenly before your eyes.

But that was the final blow.

“I will not be the figurehead of some- some fucked up love triangle.” You sobbed. “Not with two strangers.”

And with those words, one broken heart turned into three.

“(Y/n).” Credence whispered, his eyes red. “Please don’t leave me.”

You just kept moving backwards, until you hit a bookshelf. “Find someone else to fix you. I’m done.”

The two men watched as you walked off, wiping your eyes on your sleeves. They had both taken so much from you, and you had nothing left to give. Credence chased after you, but Newt knew better. He didn’t think he deserved your forgiveness. Not after he’d just done the most stupid thing in his life.

He didn’t know himself anymore.


	9. Polarized

After the first owl came, it was like a whole tsunami of letters had been unleashed upon you. Such silly men, thinking that ink on enveloped parchment would fix the damage they’d done. The rift only tugged wider, opening with every heartfelt word you refused to read.

A part of you wanted to at least reach out to Credence – after all, he hadn’t done anything wrong apart from love you, and that was clear. But allowing that love in would only prove to make things more strained in your relationship with Newt. Maybe there was nothing that could be done to repair the broken shards that once made up your heart. Maybe you just needed someone else, someone more trustworthy, to mend it.

So you opened a letter than lay atop the growing pile, alongside a bowl of owl treats you had been forced to buy in order to keep to regularly visiting birds appeased. You could tell this one was from Credence, in the way your name was scraggily written. He sometimes wrote his E’s back to front, like a silly little number three wedged in between the words that must’ve taken him a while to write out. You could see the stains of tears, where the ink bled slightly before drying, and ached to find him. To tell him you were sorry you couldn’t love him. To hold that poor, sweet boy, and tell him of all the wonderful things he was to you.

But you found yourself frozen, in rage and in despair, as you read his letter. It detailed, with many spelling errors and mistakes, how much he missed you. And that he would be gone within the week’s end, when the Hogwarts Express docked and was ready to take him home. Alone, you thought, he’d be on that train, and then alone he would stay as he took the long boat ride back to the land of the proud and the free.

“No.” You breathed, slumping back into your chair. He was leaving you, and maybe it was the most rational course of action. Even as the year drew to a close, and your final school year was fast approaching. You needed to focus, but Credence was your focus. When Newt had scrambled your aspirations, Credence had been there like a looking glass, a beam of hot light searing through forces of exact precision. He’d urged you to continue your studies, to be the best student you could be. And he’d been repaid with your angry tears, your blame resting half on him, when it should’ve been all on the true source. On Newt.

And for the matter of Newt… well you didn’t know what to think about him anymore. A part of your heart would always belong to him, but the old him. The patient, perceptive quiet man who loved to bicker and tease with a secret childish sparkle in his eye. Not the man who rose from jealousy and spite, resorting to petty measures you never thought he was capable of. It came so out of left field; a field of suffering, when all you knew of Newt was the fields of Elysium.

But you pushed those thoughts away. An angel could fall; he’d proven that with his foolish endeavour for revenge. Credence had never done you wrong, had never had anything but love and support for you, and now you’d show him that you saw that. With a shaking hand you picked up a quill, and poured your broken heart onto the parchment.

Even if you only had nothing but broken shards to give, you’d give them all to him.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was walking up the stairs to your meeting place before the hour passed, with his finger bleeding down his arm.

“Credence.” You said, unsure of what to do. He was holding his own hand, the blood trickling down his wrists, painting over his black veins. “What happened?”

“I was angry.” He spoke clearly, rallying all his strength. “I shouldn’t have let it control me, but you- you’re everything to me (Y/n). I wanted to protect you.”

A small smile formed on your face as you took two large steps to be right in front of him. “I meant what happened to your hand.” You murmured, a laugh bubbling deep in your chest. It was the first light you’d felt that entire week.

Credence huffed, his own smile mirroring yours. “I didn’t have any treats for the owl you sent.”

“Oh,” you tutted, “yeah, Misty does get a bit miffed when she isn’t rewarded for her work.” Misty flapped at the window, her beak tinged red in Credence’s blood. “You got your treat, you over glorified feather duster! Shoo!” You waved your arms. Your family owl squawked at you, then flapped off. “Sorry about that. Let me have a look.”

Credence allowed you to take his red hands in yours. “I’m sorry.” He said.

“I was hoping to talk to you up here, where I can breathe, but now Misty’s gone and ruined it all.” You pursed your lips. “C’mon, I have some Dittany extract in my room. It’ll heal this up nicely.”

You insisted on holding his hand all the way down to the Slytherin dormitories. To keep pressure on the small wound, of course. Credence couldn’t stop staring at you, his eyes darting from his hand to your face, counting his blessings and wondering when they’d eventually run out. Probably when his sins were laid bare in front of you.

“Here.” You uttered, dropping the oil onto his wound. He hissed, but the wound instantly closed, leaving no trace.

Credence muttered a “thanks”, then sat down at your desk, peering at the pile of unopened letters. “I’m glad you didn’t read them.”

You waltzed over, leaning against the desktop as you snatched one up. “Yours, or Newt’s?”

“…Both.” He sighed, resting his hands on your thighs, as if it were the most comfortable thing to him. “He doesn’t deserve you, but neither do I.” The dried blood on his hands was bright against his white skin. “…And the letters I sent were pretty pathetic. I even tried a few poems.”

“Now I have to open them.” You teased, tearing open the seal you were holding. Credence’s face fell in mortification, his hands reaching to try to snatch it from you. You twisted, until he had trapped you against the desk, your back resting against the enormous pile of envelopes and gifts.

Credence’s breathing shallowed, his expression turning serious as he looked at you. He might have begun leaning in, and you would have let him kiss you right there. But he spotted a bag of tea, and a wave of shock passed on his face. Snatching it up, he took it straight to bin, dropping it in.

“Burn it.” He said, his eyes wide and frantic. “Get rid of it.”

“It’s just some tea, Credence.”

“But he sent it to you.” He ran his hands through his steadily growing black locks. “Please, just…”

You cooed, calming him. “Do you have something against tea?” You grumbled, casting an incendiary spell that had the batch going up in flames, simmering down to just smoke in a passing second. Credence stared at the embers, disappearing slowly.

“No it’s just-“ Credence bit his lip. He looked guilty, and was beginning to sweat like – well, a sinner in church. “His tea is really bad.”

You shook your head, frowning at the boy. “What are you hiding, Credence?”

“Nothing! I’m just… just jealous, okay.” He huffed. “Did he send you any other gifts?”

“Just some flowers.” You said. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” He said. But there were black wisps curling around the blood under his nails. His eyes flickering in that threatening, possessive white. “I need to go.”

“Creed!-“ You called. But he had darted out of the door, shadows trailing him.

It wasn’t hard to figure out where he went. You just followed the trail of lingering black, and the cold, stinging air that was left in his wake.

Up to the door that had been physically unhinged, and shoved back into place precariously. It was the door to Newt’s usual classroom, except it was empty. As were the halls. The darkness of night had descended, and people were either enjoying their weekend at Hogsmeade, or stuck inside studying.

You knocked, half-expecting the door to fall over, but it held stiffly.

“Credence?” You beckoned, afraid that he wasn’t himself. “Credence, let me in.”

He didn’t reply, but you could tell he could hear you from the choked sob that escaped him.

“Please. Credence, I need to know you’re okay.” And you’d continue echoing his name until he was so worn down that he had to let you in. You didn’t know why things had turned so rapidly, how the tea had triggered it, but you knew he was in a dark place. That his power, fuelled by rage and sadness, was surging so greatly that black cracks were forming in the sandstone walls.

“(Y/n)…” His words came in little above a whisper. “I have sinned… I don’t deserve to have you hold my hand. To have you look at me like I’m something better than I actually am.”

“What do you mean, Creed? Just tell me what’s going on.”

You could hear his feet dragging along the floor as he made his way over to the door, sliding down it. You did the same, hearing his erratic breathing calm.

“I came in between you and Newt.” He explained. “I… I did something awful. I’m the reason he has changed; the reason he acted so irrationally.”

“But it wasn’t your fault Creed. Newt did that on his own free will. He became someone I can no longer love.” You said softly, your head resting against where his did on the opposite side. “Credence… I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You’ve been perfect this entire time. You don’t deserve to be treated like a prize for the taking, to be fought over without consideration of your feelings.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. “That’s why.”

“I- I don’t understand.” He said, and the crack in his voice was soul crushing. Always dumber than his contender. Always the unintelligent angry one, with nothing else. Or so he thought.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t see earlier. That you’ve always been the one.” You professed.

On the other side of the door, Credence had tensed. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He heard you standing.

“Open the door.” You said again.

“No.” He mumbled, staring at the black shadows dancing along his skin. “I’ll hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me.” You spoke, your hand pressed to the wood, longing for it to instead be his chest, his face.

Credence released a deep breath, convincing himself that no matter what you said, he wouldn’t let you in. “How do you know?”

A beat of silence passed, and then the truth was at last made tangible.

“Because I love you.”

The door came crashing down in front of you. You spared no time jumping into Credence’s arms.

The black smoke surrounding him stung as you came under its touch, like pins and needles at best; at worst like bee stings. But each wince resulted in you tightening your arms around the afflicted boy, not wanting for a second for him to think he was making you feel uncomfortable.

He stood there, shocked for a while. His arms hanging limply at his sides as his guilt still swirled in his mind. He could feel the tiny spasms of your muscles against his dark power, the Obscurus painful as ever. And as you pulled away, he thought you may well be truly fed up with the discomfort that came with touching him while he had an attack. A code black attack, you’d called it – the fond memory made his lips twitch. Even if he were to only experience this once, he thought himself the luckiest man on earth. He would savour this moment, even despite the small vial of Befuddlement Draught stowed away in his back pocket weighing on him like a bad omen. The same he had laced in Newt’s tea only a few weeks ago.

But as you pulled your face away, flushed from the revelation and the stinging pain, you didn’t flinch as you stared up at him. He realised you were waiting.

“Thank you.” He whispered, brushing a stray tendril of hair behind your ear. The touch his fingertips left was like lightning. Not electrocuting, but a lethal absence. Like the cells of your skin were trying to scurry away, but were constrained to their usual quarters, causing a flurry of pain.

An absence, you realised, that symbolised every doubt, every sorrow that Credence clung to. It was the way you squeezed your eyes in pain that made his power grow; that which fed his insecurities fed his pain, and consequentially, his power. So you figured out a good way to be rid of it.

“I love you.” You repeated, staring into those dark pools of brown. His eyes had seen a thousand lifetimes of suffering, the evidence left on the scarred hands that now cradled your face. But once you announced that deep truth, the vacancy in his eyes lifted. As if he was finally, for the first time ever, seeing clearly.

“…I love you too.” He breathed, the black wisps dissipating into his darkened veins. “I love you so much.”

And it must have been hard. To know love as something that never gave back. To know that surrendering himself to it would probably warrant a beating or blatant disregard. But you’d be different. You’d show him what love was supposed to be.

“Credence,” you said very quietly, “can I kiss you?”

He nodded, his face going slack with nervousness. He had never been kissed before, and he was scared. Scared that he would hurt you. Scared that he wouldn’t satisfy you. And you could read it all from the expression he wore.

So you took the lead: running your thumb over his bottom lip, his mouth parting so easily for you. You leant in, feeling his breath fan your mouth. And when your lips touched his heavenly soft ones, the world went silent. There was no more crackling power surrounding you, no more dark clouds with the promise of lightning. Everything went still. The calm before the storm.

The calm before Credence sighed an “I love you” against your lips, the kiss not having even started yet. His hands tightened around your waist, his nose brushing against yours, and just for good measure, he said it again. “I love you.” The words steadier this time, confident. Confident in the fact that there was nothing bad to happen after saying them.

You took his hand from your cheek, the badly marred one, and pressed it to your chest. In a husky tone you told him again, the words never before feeling so good on your tongue.

“I love you.”

And this time he felt it. In your chest, beating for him. The heart that you were telling him belonged solely to him.

Now he wanted to feel it on your lips.

And he did. Kissing you so hard that you almost stumbled, his strong arms pulling you closer to steady you. The giggle that it elicited – he could taste it on your tongue. It was addictive: being not only able to hear, but to feel, taste, and become the love you had for him.

It was the happiest he had ever felt. And it was all thanks to you.

Thanks to the inside jokes you had created, the shared looks of longing. The patience you showed when he couldn’t tackle a long word, or the sparks that kidnapped his pulse whenever you brushed your fingers through his hair. The way you always looked uneasy when saying the word “friend”, as if it dried your mouth. The sweet, sleepy notes that travelled through your words as you fell asleep on his shoulder. And now, the love that you bore for him, and let him bare for you.

He was glowing.

No, he was literally glowing.

If the Obscurus was his doubts, anger and sadness manifested as darkness, than his love, happiness, and peace manifested as light.

His veins glowed in white light, illuminating his bones and arteries underneath. The hand still placed at your chest felt warm. A comfortable, healing warm. You had only noticed when light announced itself from behind your closed eyelids. You opened your eyes, being greeted by a sight that both frightened and awed you.

“Credence… you’re…” You couldn’t finish your sentence. You didn’t know what he was.

From under his white button down, the brightest light shone. And when you took off his shirt, you saw that his heart was the source of the light.

“Oh my God.” You breathed.

“Don’t blaspheme.” Credence replied quietly, a small smile accompanied with a blush.

You shook your head, laughing. “This is so…”

“Beautiful.” He finished, looking from himself to you. His light was fading, but still leaving him looking healthier than ever. His usually pale skin had turned tanned. His cheeks flittered with freckles like he’d been in the sun for too long.

You poked his cheek. “I was going to say cheesy. But yeah, you’re pretty beautiful too.”

“I don’t know what just happened but I feel really good.” He said, staring down at his hands. The scars of his past had healed, not a single white mark left on his palms.

“Did Newt say anything about the Obscurus ever taking on other forms?” You asked.

Credence’s smile faltered with the mention of him. “No.”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that.” You tilted his chin up with your finger. “You’re different Credence. Maybe your Obscurus is too.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I’d say it is.” You beamed, running your hands over the now smooth flesh of his palms. “You’re gorgeous, Sunshine.”

His stomach fluttered. He thought there might be a few fireflies lingering there.

“I don’t deserve this.” He said, allowing some sensibility to overcome his joy.

You shook your head, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “I don’t deserve you. But I’m not going to let this chance slide away from me.” You said, taking his hand. “Are you?”

“No.” He replied. “You’re right. I love you… and I have been blessed, because you love me too. You really are an angel, (Y/n).”

“And now that I’ve granted you a wish, you owe me.” You said, your eyebrows raising in cheeky plotting.

“That’s not how angels work.” He chuckled. “Have you even read the Bible?”

“No, and I don’t intend to.” You teased. “But… I’d be willing to host Bible study. In my bedroom.”

“But if you don’t want to read it then-“ Credence assessed the sinful look you were giving him. “Oh.”

“Too bad I share my bedroom with other people.” You shrugged.

Credence smiled blissfully.

He tugged you closer, his lips grazing your ear as he whispered, leaving a chill down your spine. “I know a place.”

Just one night, he told himself. One chance to love you like he wanted to. To hold you and kiss you and be yours.

And then he’d allow the guilt of what he’d done consume him once again.


	10. Anti-Venom

Sublime kisses under soft light, your wand cast to the side with a ball of white casting a heavenly glow on the slumbering books of the restricted section. Somehow, it always came back to this place; the area you’d been condemned to in your prefect duties, but had evolved into a sanctuary filled with happy memories. Apart from the second last isle, in which you had caught Newt kissing Georgina.

But your thoughts never once strayed to that occurrence while Credence was kissing you. Kisses with such ferocity and emotion that it came off as a final plea for love, the last act he would do in life. He lacked the playfulness that Newt had often provided in your late-night rendezvous, instead holding you like the most important thing in the world. His angular face, cast in thick shadow, appeared to blend in with the night, despite the glorious offering of light he had portrayed just that day. But perhaps that darkness would always be a part of him, as it had made up his identity for a long time.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked suddenly, his hands flying from your thighs to the bookcase behind you. It was as if he was always wary of traps, his mind calculating the risk of a pitfall if he took a step too close to you.

“No.” You replied, understanding as ever. For things would always be a little rushed with Credence, while you simultaneously had to have a deep patience for his irrational reluctance.

But he wanted to stop. Though he had consoled himself long enough to initiate the hot and heavy session, now all he could think about were the wrongs he had to confess. How would you feel when he told you, after the fact that he had made love to you? Either way, the decision he chose would expose him as a liar and a horrible friend. And his love for you created a strong riptide that jumbled every element of the situation into one big mess.

“What’s wrong?” You cooed, running a gentle touch over his bare torso. You expected him to get cold feet when it came to his first time, so you weren’t at all disappointed.

Credence relished your touch, not sure if he had the courage to say what would exclude him from the honour for the rest of his days. But he had to. He owed you that much. “I did something horrible.” And he internally cussed himself for beginning to tear up. The last thing he wanted to appear as was a sympathy leech.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Your hands were readily upon his face, wiping the tears away.

“No. I don’t want to.” He murmured. “But I have to.”

You waited patiently for Credence to steady his breathing and calm down enough so that he didn’t begin hiccupping through his sobs.

“I’m the reason Newt has been acting so weird.” He professed, looking like he might sink behind into the bookcases at any moment to escape the reality of what he’d done. “I- I spiked his tea with Befuddlement Draught.”

Looking at the way his face scrunched up as he sobbed, you struggled to cling to the developing hot anger in the pit of your stomach.

“…How long?” Was the only question you had right now, apart from asking why. He looked to be ready to explain himself, anyway.

“I started right before the experiment. When he was supposed to get rid of the Obscurus.” He exhaled deeply, rubbing his nose on his sleeve. “I knew he wouldn’t be able to go through with it otherwise. Which is why I acted like I was fine after the first round. I wanted it gone, even if it meant killing me.”

“Oh Credence.” You whispered, tugging him close. A half-hearted “no” escaped his lips. He didn’t want you to forgive him this easily; to be completely satisfied with his reasoning. Because, quite frankly, he believed he didn’t deserve it. But feeling your sympathy wrap around him made things so much more bearable.

“I didn’t stop after that day.” His voice was muffled against your shoulder. “I thought… I thought I might actually have a shot with you if he continued acting in a way that was opposite to everything good about him. That’s why he kissed Georgina. It was my fault.”

“I-“ You stopped yourself. But you could believe it, so there would be no use in saying the contrary. “Credence, I love you.”

He pulled back a confused frown on his face. “No, you don’t.”

“I love you.” You said again, the next part not so easy to say. “But I can’t be with you.”

The hope that had lifted Credence’s chest escaped with a tired sigh. But he knew the repercussions of his actions, and at least he had been blessed enough to have such a moderate reaction from you.

“I am truly sorry.” He said softly, twirling the ends of your hair for the last time. “I was too selfish to consider that what you had with Newt was special. I didn’t sacrifice what I knew Newt would have, if he were in my position.” And with that, he attempted to turn away. Planning to button up his shirt and walk right out of the library, straight out of the castle and back to the stations that would bring him home. Even though he’d made a home in you.

But you caught his arm, your eyes now red with tears. “Don’t go.”

“I have to.” Was his simple response. He’d not allow himself the pleasure of staying, even if it was just to bask in your presence.

“Not tonight.” You spoke with a failing steadiness. “Just… Just love me for tonight. I think-“ You bit your lip, squeezing his arm. “I think I might go crazy if I never knew what it would feel like to be with you.”

“And it’ll drive me crazy to have a taste and never be able to have it again.” He responded. A valid point, which you too knew would break your soul.

“Please.” You said, but wouldn’t argue any longer if he finalized his choice. “Credence, I’m going to miss you, so much. I don’t think my heart will ever fully heal.”

He nodded. “This is all my fault. I never meant to hurt you (Y/n).”

“I know.” You gave him a sad smile, sighing as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “I know you.”

Because you’d come full circle. You knew everything about him that was bathed in sunlight and kindness and that beautiful heart, and now the extent to which the darkness had tainted him. You knew it all, and although you could likely come to love it all, you wouldn’t let yourself. You could forgive him, but the wedge he had driven between yourself and Newt left too many unanswered questions that ate away at your soul. And even knowing that the time you’d spent together was some of the happier moments in your life, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was worth the cost of losing that bond you had with Newt.

So Credence took you. He kissed every inch of your skin, he worshiped every thrum of your heartbeat and every moan that he got out of you. His hands roamed for hours, his body pressed to yours in devotion until you could stand no more. Until the wood of the bookcase ate into your back, and was replaced by the smooth tabletop oak instead. Slow, so that he could savour this one chance, this one blessing that had been given to him despite not deserving it.

He must’ve told you a million times, whispered in dedication how much he loved you. He would never love another as much, he knew this for a fact. For no other heart would do, no other would even come close to filling him with such light. He was too far gone with the darkness, but you had somehow managed, albeit momentarily, to cast it away. Nobody else could have done that for him.

He’d remember how you tasted. How it felt, being inside you. The way you adulated him so thoroughly, on your knees and on the desk. How warm your flesh felt under his fingertips as he pushed into you, his first time and possibly his last. For how could he ever recreate this feeling with another? No, after this there would be no others. There was only you. And if you were no longer, then he supposed he would feel love no longer.

The final time he felt you was on an armchair, where you bounced on him until you both came. Delightful, but the end to an era of pushing away the truth, and the birth of one where realities had to be faced. He already felt it eating at his soul; when you both finally collapsed in breathy sighs and entangled limbs. Running soft circles across his back as you kissed his shoulder, not wanting to leave, ever. Credence would’ve been happy to sleep like that, leaning back into the cushions as you whispered sweet nothings, and your tears were spilling down his chest.

It would hurt. But at least it was real. At least he could now spend his nights remembering this moment, fantasizing about the many that would’ve followed if he had been dealt better cards. If he had chosen a better way to garner your affections.

With shaking hands, he helped you dress, walked you to the Slytherin common room, then kissed you on the forehead. You stayed, wrapped in an embrace, for a long time. Until finally the chilly midnight air swept it, an unwanted reminder that he had to leave you. He told you he loved you, one final time.

And when the door closed behind you, he didn’t bother to look behind as he hastily walked away. He wouldn’t give you a chance to run after him.

He caught the Hogwarts Express back to London that night, and had his ticket back to New York soon after.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Newt.”

The song of your voice found him in his office, interrupting him amongst the flurry of documents he had been packing. It was strange to see him here; he was rarely in this room ever. You’d never had an encounter in here, which made it, in your eyes, a safe room to talk to him without the lingering memories of how he’d shown his love for you.

And you knew he loved you. As you did him. It was something unspoken, something that you thought would never even need to be made tangible since the elicited feeling was too strong to be summed up in a vocal string of words. But now the lines were blurry. How much of him had been real? How much had been an effect of the tea?

“I know.” Was all he gave you, not bothering to lift his head. The truth was, he didn’t know if he could handle looking at you. “Credence told me, before he left.”

“And where are you going?” You asked.

Newt finally raised his head; those green eyes so conflicted as they took you in. “I’ve declined the Headmaster’s offer to teach for another year.”

“Is it because of me?”

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t play a key factor.”

“Newt…”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. It’s not your fault.” He struggled to even put the fault on Credence. From his point of view, it was just rotten luck. “I just… I wish we’d had more time.”

Your heart recoiled at the sound of his suitcase clicking closed. “Me too.” You uttered.

It was a standstill. Neither one of you wanted to move. To make this goodbye final. You had lost Credence, and now, because the damage was too far gone, you were going to lose Newt too.

“Maybe this is just fate’s cruel way of telling us that it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Don’t say that.” You shook your head. “This wasn’t fate.”

Newt sighed, his head hanging in sorrow. “I hope you have an uneventful final year, (Y/n). You deserve that, and so much more.”

“What are you going to do?” You asked, stepping in front of the door as he went to leave. You wouldn’t make it that easy.

“I am going to talk to the Headmaster; give him a strong recommendation to make you Head Girl.” He breathed, gathering enough courage to look you in the eye. “And then I’ll be on a boat to Africa, to revise some chapters of my book for the new edition I’ve been commissioned to write.”

“I don’t care about being Head Girl anymore, Newt. I care about you.” You reached a hand out, grazing your fingers along his. The spark was a lot dimmer now, but still there. “Don’t go. Not because of me.”

“Then I’ll go because I’ve accepted a contract to carry out studies. (Y/n), I don’t have time for this.” But he did have time. He’d always have time for you.

Newt appeared so lethargic. So sad. It pained you to know you’d played a part in stealing the laughter from him, in stealing that light. Perhaps there was only so much you could do; you couldn’t pour your soul into two men, so you had chosen Credence, only to leave Newt in the dark.

“I’m sorry.” You said, although you knew he wouldn’t take it.

“I know.” He replied, drifting his fingers up, along your arm, until it came to settle on your chin. “I know you, (Y/n). I really do.” He whispered, leaning his forehead against yours. “And I will never forget how lucky I am to have that privilege.”

He pressed his lips to yours, and imprinted in his mind how it felt, so he’d always remember. He put down his case, and held you tightly.

“I love you.” You said. “I’ve always loved you.”

“I love you too.” He let out an airy chuckle against your lips. “I think I knew it on that bus ride back from the Dragon tombs. I’ll never forget.”

“Neither will I.” You agreed, letting your head press to his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat.

Newt smiled painfully at your words, as his wand slid from his coat sleeve.

“I know you.” He cooed into your ear. “I know that this is best. That you will be happy without the burden of my memory.” He kissed the crown of your head as he angled his wand towards the back of your skull, then uttered the spell as tears slid down his freckles, creating a constellation of agony.

“Obliviate.”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Feeling somewhat dazed, you blinked, fingers waving in the air as if they’d recently been around something. Your confusion cleared slowly, as you noticed you were in your dorm room.

There was a letter on your desk, and with a small flurry in your chest, you recognized the E’s written like 3’s.

Credence had detailed in his letter that he wanted you to visit him in New York, and quite enthusiastically, you began to write back.

Your ink spilled as there was a taught knock on your door. You cursed quietly, standing up to get it. It was the last person you had expected.

“Headmaster.” You breathed. “Hello. What can I do for you?”

“You can take this badge, Miss. (Y/l/n).” He replied straightforwardly, his hand opened. On his palm lay a green pin, with the words HEAD GIRL in silver.

“G-gladly, sir.” You stumbled, picking it up. It was funny how valuable such a cheap adornment could be. How much weight it held, while being almost as light as a feather.

“I want you to wear it on the first assembly next year. It will save me time, instead of handing them out there.” He gave a tight-lipped smile. “Not to worry though, there will be a grand announcement on the commencement of next year’s schooling.

“I understand. Headmaster, I can’t thank you enough-“

“Hush child. You’ll sooner curse me out for giving you the responsibilities, come next year.”

And with that he left you to finish your letter, then hand it to Misty, along with a treat of course. You smiled at the memory of Credence’s encounter with the bird, and urged her with a scratch to her head to fly quickly. You wanted him to know that you’d be on your way soon.

You got to packing your bags right away, since it was the first day of holidays, and there was no point in waiting.

You packed your Slytherin Scarf, necessary clothing for a chilly winter, other obvious needs, and finally, your new badge, to show off to your love. But there was one thing still lingering at the back of your mind. A kind of nagging that only occurred when you were forgetting something important.

How could you forget!

You’d need reading material for the long trip there (floo powder could only get you so far).

Skimming the bookshelf next to your bed, you huffed at the fact that the only books you hadn’t finished were school textbooks. So, you opted to choose the book that was probably going to be the least boring.

Your eyes landed on ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’.

The author’s name looked familiar, despite the fact that you’d never taken an interest in magical beasts before. You’d bought the book to see if you could learn more about the lake’s giant squid.

Newton Scamander.

Such a funny name.

You’d probably make a joke about it to Credence when you arrived in New York.


	11. Almost Blue, Until Blue It Is

ABOUT 1 YEAR LATER

Almost blue. As blue as the coat that he wore, wet spots from melting snowflakes soaking down into his skin. The thick blankets of snow that encased the streets of New York glowed yellow under the dim streetlights, but only that. Dimly. Like the dim happiness that was coming back to him slowly, on days when he tended to his creatures. He loved being able to give them more attention; his year of teaching had made him realise how much he missed it. But no matter what, that blue kept creeping back up, around the edges. Like a photo, the ink smearing at the edges as time passes, with no way to revert it to its previous pristine condition.

Almost blue, like the night sky above that was twinkling with stars, shrouded in black but illuminated in navy thanks to the light from the full moon. His suitcase swung at his side, a little heavier than the last time he had visited this crazy city. He had incorporated a new lock, courtesy of the Ministry of Magic.

He no longer mourned the loss of your love, at least, not as much as he used to. But he’d always remember that girl adorned in green, and the bright smile that she wore whenever he made an unfunny joke. He never could find anyone else who could match him in banter, and he thoroughly missed it.

Reaching the apartment building that housed the Goldsteins, he took a deep breath. They’d invited him for a big new year party, and told him he could stay with them for a little while after. “To see the city, for real this time” Tina had accentuated in her letter to him. He took the steps up, his hands feeling solid with cold as he felt the warmth radiate from the door. One half-knock later and the door was swinging open, a rosy-cheeked Queenie greeting him with her usual wide smile.

“Newtie! Oh it’s so wonderful to see you!” She exclaimed, waving over Tina.

“Hello Newt.” She nodded, giving him a hug. “I’ll help you to your room.”

As they both walked through the dense crowd of smoking and drinking party patrons, Tina drilled him on how he’d been this whole time. He gave her a short summary of all that had happened (excluding the falling in love with you part) and found himself in the quieter room with two beds. On the other he saw another suitcase.

“I hope you don’t mind we got someone else staying in the room with you. I promise, she’s a sweetheart, you’ll love her.” Tina told him.

“That’s quite alright. I’ll just unpack my things, if you don’t mind.”

Tina gave a smile, turning back to head out to the party. The place somehow felt bigger than the last time he’d been here, but he supposed it wasn’t a wild idea that they’d cast an extension charm for the celebrations.

It took him a couple minutes to ready himself for the party; he had no one to impress, so he wasn’t really bothered that he looked tired from the long boat ride over. So, with his shirt unbuttoned at the top and his coat discarded on the bed, he headed out to the loud jazz music and tipsy-people-filled hallway. Queenie had mentioned something about having cooked up party snacks, so he made a beeline for the kitchen. It took him about ten seconds to get there, and sighed in delight at the freshly cooked finger food still available on an array of trays.

As he stuffed his face, he turned and took in the scene. It was odd how unempathetic he was feeling lately. He could see how many people were here, but didn’t really feel their presence. He felt alone, in a room full of people, and cursed internally at himself for sounding like a pretentious poet in his own head. He decided to pass the time by simply observing the diverse group of people. He caught bits of loud conversations, and even watched a girl flirt with Queenie. She had come over five minutes later and told him off for being nosey.

But suddenly his eyes were drawn towards a group of well-dressed people, looking to be having an intelligent conversation. He recognised one of them as Percival Graves, or at least, the real Percival Graves. He decided to stop being an onlooker, and talk to the man he’d only met while someone else was wearing his skin.

“Uh, excuse me.” He shyly interrupted, feeling a bit too overwhelmed by the amount of seemingly important people now looking at him. “Mr. Graves?”

Percival turned, his brow knitted. The brandy he held in his glass sloshed a little, accentuated by his tipsy smirk. He extended a hand to shake. “Mr. Scamander! It’s good to finally meet you.” Newt took his hand, attempting to ignore the sleeve that rode up and exposed deep scars, most probably the results from his time in captivity.

“Yes, well, I wasn’t sure if you’d recognise me.”

“Of course I would. You’re the man responsible for saving my life. Maybe not directly, but your outing of Grindelwald prompted the search party that found me.” He smiled, though there was a sadness lingering just out of reach in his eyes. “How are you enjoying the party?”

“I haven’t been here long, so I couldn’t tell you.” Newt admitted. “But I am rather tired, so I’ll most likely head to bed soon.”

“That’s a shame. Though, you should try to meet as many people as possible before you do so. A lot of people are familiar with your name, but not with your face. You could make a few new friends, hm?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Speaking of which,” Percival’s smile widened, “this is my newest trainee.” Newt turned around, and air escaped him. “Newt this is Credence, Credence this is Newt.”

“We already know each other, old man.” Credence teased, waltzing over with a confidence Newt couldn’t comprehend. “Don’t you remember me telling you about our time together?”

Percival sighed, clapping Credence on the back. “You know my mind isn’t what it used to be, but age isn’t the issue, young man.” He jabbed back playfully.

“It’s lovely to see you again Credence.” Newt nodded, feeling awkward. He wanted to say a lot of things to his old friend, things that would cease this uneasy strain on their relationship. But it seemed he didn’t need to, as Credence engulfed him in a hug. The young man had grown taller, at least an inch or two taller than Newt himself.

“I’m so happy to see you too.” He grinned. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been well. I’ve visited Africa and Sweden since we last spoke.”

“You have to tell me all about it.” He urged, pulling Newt away from the group, towards the balcony door. “How’s the new edition coming along?”

“Great. I’ve sent it to the publishers to be finalized.” He replied, getting a bit distracted by the pretty, wilting flowers that curled around the balcony. The busy streets and tall, illuminated buildings were also gorgeous at this time of night. “How is… How’s (Y/n)?” He asked carefully, watching for the reaction Credence would give.

To his surprise, Credence didn’t get possessive or jealous. He simply let out a content sigh, leaning his arms against the railing as he looked out to the skyline. “She’s good. Really good. She’s serving as a temporary Potions Master for MACUSA.”

“That’s brilliant!” Newt breathed. “Did she end up getting Head Girl?”

“Yup. She ended up getting everything she wanted. A scholarship too. Working for MACUSA is only an internship, only half of it.”

Newt nodded, a warm feeling of pride swelling in his chest. “I knew she’d get everything she deserved one day.”

Credence huffed. “Not everything.”

Newt didn’t have time to ask him what he meant by that, before a familiar voice was floating towards them from the doorway. “Credence!”

His heart stopped as you jumped towards the tall boy, wrapping him up in a big hug, with a kiss to the cheek. Credence chuckled, mirroring you with a chaste kiss to the forehead. When you turned to address Newt, he almost forgot that you didn’t know him. You wore a quizzical expression, questions swirling on the tip of your tongue as you looked as if you were reaching into the depths of your mind to retrieve information you seemed to know about this stranger.

“Hello.” You spoke with a slight frown. “Do I know you?”

“This is Newt Scamander.” Credence uttered, a knowing smile on his face.

“Oh!” Relief flooded your face. “You’re the guy who wrote that book, right?”

Newt took a deep breath, trying to calm the sadness that had resurfaced in his heart. “Yes. That’s me.”

A beat of silence, and then a loud laugh racked your entire frame. “The-the look on your face! You really thought I forgot about you.”

Newt felt his bones freeze. Credence laughed along, shooting Newt an apologetic look. “The spell wore off after a year. She was just asking about you a week ago.”

“Oh.” Newt said. “Oh.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“You know, I heard Queenie mention something about cooking up some fish tonight.” You angled your head back to Credence. “You should let her know we have one gaping fish right here.”

“Hilariously unfunny as always, (Y/n).” He chuckled, the awkward tension leaving his body. “Credence tells me you’re a Potions Master for MACUSA.”

“Only for about two more weeks. Then I’m back to Britain for a permanent role in the Potions division at M.O.M.”

“So you’re…”

“I’ll be working closely with you, idiot.” You smiled brightly. “Now please, give me a reasonable explanation for why you haven’t given me a hug yet.”

Newt smiled, not hesitating to pull you into his arms. The feeling so familiar, so secure. He never wanted to let go. But he had to, just so he could take in the beautiful features of your face. Your skin had grown a shade darker, probably thanks to the fairer American climate. A few more freckles dotted your face, and your hair had grown longer. You looked older, but in a way that only sharpened and accentuated your features more. More beautiful than a year ago.

“I wasn’t sure if your boyfriend would kill me if I’d tried.” He answered your question, giving Credence a smile.

“I’m not her boyfriend.” Credence released, with as much ease as he could manage. “Not anymore.”

You turned back to him, reaching down to grab his hand and squeeze. “We came to an agreement. Credence is starting his career here, and I’m starting mine in the U.K. It would be far too much trouble to maintain a long-distance thing.”

“But-“ Newt stopped himself. It wasn’t his business.

“But we love each other. That’s what you were going to say, weren’t you?” Credence followed. Newt nodded. “As much as this misfit will always have a place in my heart, we’re just too different. I don’t want to go into details and embarrass myself in front of you so I’ll just leave it at that.”

“He figured out he likes boys more than girls.” You cut in with a smug smirk. Credence rolled his eyes, though his light-hearted smile was still tugging on his full lips.

“I still like girls. I love one girl in particular, actually. But when it comes to, you know, the sex and stuff-“

“Alright, I get it.” Newt chuckled, holding his hands up.

“Not that (Y/n) isn’t incredible in bed, like wow, I don’t need to tell you-“

You hopped up, covering his mouth with your hand. “What he means to say is: I’m moving away, and while he still loves me, it isn’t as deep as he had first anticipated.”

Newt nodded. “I understand. I’m glad you two could end things without hard feelings.” Not like he had ended things with you.

“Yeah, she’ll always be my best friend.” Credence sighed, cuddling you from behind.

You shrugged. “I can’t really have hard feelings when he has an obvious crush on his boss.”

“Shut up! This is weird, stop, we’re basically in love and you’re saying all this.”

“Basically? Wow, now my feelings really are hurt.” You teased, pouting.

“Okay don’t do that because now I want to kiss you.”

“We’re not alone, Credence. You can’t say that.”

“Sorry.” He laughed, poking your cheeks. Newt could tell from the dynamic you had that you’d shared a wonderful year together. But fate somehow seemed to be on his side, for if you weren’t going away, he was confident Credence wouldn’t have hesitated to marry you.

“We’ve just… I guess we’ve grown up so much.” Credence spoke quietly, as if reading Newt’s thoughts. “Let’s just leave it at this. We both understand that love isn’t limited to one person in life.” He then not so subtly raised an eyebrow at Newt. “Anyway, I hear Whiskey calling my name.” He then exited, but not before lingering at the door for one final word. “Look after her, will you?”

Newt instantly murmured a yes. He’d always look after you.

The wind blew a chill across his arms as silence was left in Credence’s wake.

“I really did miss you.” Your almost silent voice urged him to look at you. “I can’t believe you obliviated me!”

“I thought it would bring you more happiness to be, unobstructedly, with the one you loved.”

“But I loved you too.”

Newt took a moment to breathe, the party all but background noise to him now.

“And now it seems we’ve been brought back together again.”

“So it seems.” You retorted with a small smile.

“I’ll be seeing you a lot in the Ministry. I pop down to the Potions division at least three times a week.”

“For your creatures, I’d assume.”

“Yes.”

“And how are they?” You asked.

“Very well. They’re not on a rampage around the city, as far as I know, so it’s progress.”

You let slip a cute giggle. “Oh how I wish I could have been here for that.”

“I’m glad you hadn’t been.” He said, only now noticing how close you were drifting towards each other. “I wouldn’t ever gamble with the chances of you getting hurt.”

“Because you still love me?”

He tried not to tear his gaze from your eyes.

“Yes.”

And now you were standing so close together that he could feel your body heat, and he was hungry for that familiar, soothing touch that he had dreamt of every night for a year.

“Are you going to kiss me?” You asked, your chest heaving.

Newt shook his head. “No.” He then moved towards the vine of dying flowers that clung to the balcony railing. He plucked up the last flowers that were still alive after the snowy season, and pressed them to your palm.

“What are these for?” You asked, your heart still unsure if it should break again yet.

“They are a promise.” He explained, nervously pushing your hair behind your ear. “That I will kiss you. But not now. This is a lot to take in, and with the whole Credence situation… I want to give you space, and have time for myself to comprehend this. I don’t expect you to forgive me for everything I did, not just yet. So, I want you to take these little durable flowers, that reminded me of you as soon as I stepped out here, and take it as a promise. When we see each other again, at the Ministry, then I’ll kiss you.”

“…It’ll be hard to avoid seeing each other till then, since we’re staying in the same room.” You smiled.

“Oh. You’re the-?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

You tittered, twirling the flowers in between your fingers. “Sorry I spoiled your romantic speech.”

“I wouldn’t want to be made a fool by anyone else.”

You took a second to think, then an idea took hold of your mind. “How about this. We’re friends for now. We’ll just… be ourselves and just spend time without the prospect of anything else to worry about. Then in two weeks, we can start to mend the relationship we had.” You suggested. “Have.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” He leant over, placing a peck on your temple. “I’m off to bed.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight (Y/n). It was… I really can’t describe how blissful I feel right now.”

“Good thing you have two weeks to think about it.”

He nodded, giving you a wink before he left you alone on the cold balcony.

As you looked down at the blue flowers you held, and your heart swelled with a joy it had not known for an entire year, you thought the colour blue had never looked so happy.


	12. Brave New World

The Ministry of Magic was an otherworldly place. Not just because it was the business world contradicted with the likes of sorcery - or grim, tired faces dealing with cases of goblin smuggling and illegal potion making. The weirdest thing that you first noticed about the place was how lively it was; filled with busy important people fast-walking around, but then compared to your own office, your private space was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. It unsettled you the first time you settled in, since you were provided such a large, lavish place that didn’t match how small you really felt. You were sure it would never pass. And it was true, until Newt showed up at your door with a Puffskein in hand.

“Good morning (Y/n).” He said cheerfully, but lingered at the door.

After two weeks of staying as friends, now was the definitive time to choose whether that romantic ember still sparked, or whether it had blown out. You knew the answer.

“Hi handsome.” You smiled, relishing the way you could still make him blush. “What do you have for me?”

And just like that, you fell into normal conversation. Newt had brought some notes along with the fluffy ball of a creature, requesting that you help him discover the properties of Puffskein hair. You knew his office was just down the hall, so you suggested going there to give the little beast a trim and then test the properties. This gave you the opportunity to be reminded of his beautiful mind, and how skilled he was in potion making himself.

“In my third year,” he continued his rambling, “my potions professor had to keep an eye on me at all times, because I couldn’t resist bringing my own ingredients to class and testing them in the potions we made.” He paused to huff a laugh to himself as he remembered. “I learnt the hard way that Hippogriff feathers do not mix well with Invigoration Draught.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you pictured Newt as a little boy, somehow managing to be even clumsier than he was now, wreaking his innocent havoc on his classmates and teachers. But your thoughts quickly dissolved as you stepped into Newt’s office, which looked a lot more like a zoo than a place to file paperwork.

“Do you want to hold it while I trim?” He then asked, settling down on a stool. He noticed the stunned look on your face and jokingly brought his hand up to push your chin and close your open mouth. “You like it?”

“Love it.” You murmured back. “You’re telling me you have a place just like this in your suitcase?”

“Mhmm.” He hummed, putting down the content, yellow creature he had been holding. “Except my case is a little bigger.”

You chuckled, never failing to see the countless ironies the man lived by. “Will you show me one day?”

“I can show you today, if you’d like.” He said. “But first, we must get to work!” he clasped his hands together, an excited glimmer in his eye.

“I don’t like it when you get that crazy scientist look on your face.”

“Why not?” He teasingly pursed his lips.

“Because it never ends well.”

“When was the last time I got that look, then? And how did it not end well?”

You rolled your eyes, taking a seat next to him, your shoulders touching. “As I recall, you had the same look three days ago, when we were leaving the Goldsteins’ apartment.”

He shook his head, but couldn’t refrain from giving you that adorable, cheeky half-smile.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, love.”

“So you don’t remember trying to kiss me and then falling over when I backed away?”

“Must’ve been a dream you mistook for reality.” He shrugged. “You are looking rather detached lately. Shall I call for the shrink?”

“Oh,” You replied, not-so-innocently looking up at him with sultry eyes and a lean in your body. “So it’s my mistake if I think you want to kiss me right now?”

Newt fumbled with the scissors he had been handling, dropping them almost comically on the floor with a subsequent clattering.

“N-no. I mean yes.” He scrunched his face up, taking a deep breath. “I don’t want to kiss you unless you want me to.”

“And what do you think I want?” You asked, placing a hand on his thigh. “C’mon Newt, this should be easy for you.” You smirked. “You know me.”

Newt considered this for a moment, going calmly quiet before saying “Yes, I do.”

But instead of kissing you, like you had expected, he just bent down and picked up the scissors. He then plopped the creature in your lap and made you hold it as he trimmed its fur.

“I know,” he said, meticulously gathering the hair in a bowl, “that I am easily distracted by you. So I figured, I should get at least this one task done before you inevitably flirt me into a corner, where I will have no option but to kiss your beautiful-“ he caught himself glancing at your lips, and mumbled a curse.

Your cheeks now burning with a blush, you tried to look elsewhere, other than watch his large freckled hands at work. But you couldn’t help but look. To take in the curve of his neck and how his shoulder blades poked out from under his thin white button up. Or the new pink scars that he had received in the year you’d been apart, silently yearning for him in the meantime. He caught your stare, but you didn’t falter. Instead counting the new freckles that had formed on his face, and the little white nick by his chin, which he had had for a long time, earning it after an encounter with an angry muggle racoon.

When he finished up with the Puffskein, he set it down, watching it roll away with a smile. The same smile that had been burnt into your brain, with flashes coming back to you through the memory erasing charm. His top lip melded with brown freckles, his bottom reddened from how often he nibbled on it. And now you were focusing on his eyes, as he turned back to you. Accentuated by his usual, omnipresent dark bags, they were bright and awake. Flecked in pure sunlight, they kept your stare.

He took your hands from your lap, pressing a kiss to the back of one. “I’ve missed you.”

You nodded. “We have a lot of time to catch up on.”

“And I have a lot of new creatures to introduce you to.” He smiled. “In due time, though. I want to take you out. A proper date. Just one co-worker and another.”

“Alright. What did you have in mind?”

Newt ran his thumb over your hand, tilting his head. “The library.”

“…The library.” You deadpanned. “Newt-“

He laughed, squeezing your hands in his as he tried to control himself. “I’m joking, sweetheart.” He pulled you up with him, swinging an arm over your shoulder. “I was thinking, since we’ve been working so tirelessly, that we deserve a treat.”

“What sort of treat?” You purred, snuggling into his side as you walked.

“Don’t look at me like that, young lady.” He teased. “There’s a new ice cream place around the block.”

You both took your time walking to the place, shoving each other around and sharing banter. The ice cream shop was muggle-run, but the scoops were superb. Newt had gotten a double scoop pistachio cone, while you had tried the chocolate fudge.

“Let me try.” He said, stealing a lick of your cone. You tutted as he made a mess of himself; his lips now coated in chocolate. Taking his chin between two fingers, you licked a stripe over his mouth, making him giggle.

“It’s only fair that I get some of yours now.” You argued, and Newt gladly held his cone to your lips. That was a fatal error in judgement, as you leant down to take a lick. Newt pushed the cone up, the bottom half of your face becoming slick in green coloured ice cream.

“You asshole!” You laughed, rubbing it off on your sleeve.

“You’ve missed a bit.” He chimed, grabbing your face in his hand and replicating what you had done to him with a sloppy lick.

You both laughed, but became quiet as Newt didn’t let go. He was giving you another one of his crazy scientist looks, but this time, you knew you’d succumb to it.

He took note of the nervous furrow that took your brow, so subtle, but present. You were still afraid. Maybe of what he might do to you if you let him have you, fully. Perhaps you were afraid that things were too good to be true. But he knew you; he knew the words that would push those thoughts from your mind.

“I love you.” He said, with no hint of apprehension in his voice. His breath blew cold against your face, laced with the scent of his ice cream.

“I know.” You replied. “You’re also dripping ice cream on your sleeve.”

He looked down, chuckling at the green mess he’d made.

“I think I’ll just slather it on my body. Would you lick it all up then?”

You nodded, squeezing his bicep. “I’ve been looking for a proper way to christen my new office. Shall we?”

“Yes, my love.” Newt relayed, poking out his elbow for you to link arms with him.

The ice cream tasted sweeter now. But not as sweet as the words you said next tasted.

“Newt?”

“Yes?”

You stopped walking, and as he turned to you, the breeze tangled his mousy locks.

“I love you.”

Newt smiled wildly, pushing forward to press a chaste kiss onto your lips.

“I know.” He said quietly. “I know you.”


End file.
